What Friends Are For

Vacations can be spent in the strangest places

"The door is locked."

"What?"

"The door is locked!"

"I don't understand."

I turned to look at him, irritably. "Were you born in this country? Is English your first language? What the heck don't you understand? THE. DOOR. IS. LOCKED! We can't get in. My keys are inside, and you locked us out, ijit!"

"I mean... what do you want me to do?"

I scowled. "Since it's your fault you get to go try the windows, see if one is unlocked."

"Fine." Reluctant, but at least he was starting to look contrite. After fifteen minutes, though, he still wasn't back. Scowling even deeper, I left the little back porch and went around the house in the now-pouring rain to see what was taking so long.

That was when I saw Paul. In handcuffs. Walking to a police car.

I shook my head, unsure whether to laugh or just turn around and head back to the back porch. And then laugh.

"Hey!" I called out. "This is a mistake! We locked our keys inside!"

The police whirled on me, startled. The sergeant waggled his finger at me. I went over, grinning apologetically. "Sorry offic—"

"Turn around, put your hands behind your back."

"What?!"

He grabbed me roughly. "Hands behind your back!"

I felt the metal cuffs click closed. "But—"

"We called the homeowner. He knows nothing about this being an Air B&B, buddy. There's a difference between a renter and a squatter."

"But—!"

Then I was in the car next to Paul. He didn't look at me, but I could see him shaking. Then I began to shake, too. And soon, we were both spending our vacation cuffed in the back of a police car, soaking wet and cold... and laughing until our sides hurt.

I mean... what are friends for?

NOTES: ▶︎

Word Count: 300
Submitted for "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge" 
Prompt: Use the phrase "The door is locked"

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