Scene: Driving home from work — left early owing to the fact that my younger co-workers can’t handle their liquor and were drunk by 11am celebrating the company anniversary. It’s about 2:30pm, we’ve had a good lunch and are on the way home.
Me: (In my head — surely he sees that light is red. Maybe he’s just f’ing with me and thinks it’s funny?) It’s red!
Ron: Did I just run a red light?
Me: Why do you think those people were yelling at you?
Ron: We gotta’ get outta’ here. (Drives off fast and furtively.)