Gwen stuck out her arm to stop Tim. “Tim, you’re too drunk to drive home.”
“I ffffinnne,” Tim slurred. He shoved her arm out of the way and rambled out of the house into the garden.
“No Tim! You’re not fine! You can’t drive home. You’ll die! Is that what you want? You’ll be a statistic!”
Tim made his hand into a gun shape and pointed at Gwen. “No Gwenth. You’re a statissstic! A dogmestic despoote statisstic!” And with that he yelled “BANG” jerking his hand back from the force of imaginary gun fire. Gwen stared at him for a very long time before she went back inside and locked the door.