Michael stumbled out of the house and into the back seat of the car, his heart pounding in his chest. "Mom, what are you doing?!" he shouted.
"I'm getting us out of here, of course," Lucille replied, a wicked gleam in her eye. "Those thugs won't know what hit them."
As they careened down the streets of Orange County, Michael clutched the seat in front of him and tried not to throw up. Lucille swerved in and out of lanes, narrowly avoiding other cars and pedestrians as she tried to shake their pursuers.
"I can't believe you're doing this," Michael yelled over the sound of the wind rushing through the open windows. "You're wine drunk!"
"I may be wine drunk, but I'm still the best driver in town," Lucille slurred, her grip on the steering wheel unwavering.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they managed to lose their pursuers and pull into a quiet residential neighborhood. Michael collapsed against the back seat, grateful to be alive.
"Well, that was quite the adventure," Lucille chuckled, taking a swig from her wine glass. "I'm glad you're safe, son. Now let's go home and have a nice quiet evening, shall we?"
Michael couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "Only if you promise to never drive like that again," he said, shaking his head.
"Deal," Lucille said with a wink, before pulling out of the neighborhood and heading back home.