I'm so mad at you, you could live for everyone in June.

I was in the back seat of a car; a wife and husband in their forties were in front, the wife driving. Someone else was in the back, to my left.

For some reason, the husband was brandishing a revolver, pointing it at the wife to compel her to drive somewhere. Stranger, though, was that he held the gun up around the same height as his neck and angled it down towards her. I advised lowering it so that people outside wouldn't see what was going on, but he continued holding it up.

The wife, frustrated, said: "I'm so mad at you, you could live for everyone in June."

"Try August!" I said. Somehow I think she was wishing all the summer heat upon him.