Arrest

Flash Fiction

Arrest

“You are under arrest!” said John.

“I definitely need one…” Mom said back.

“Huh? You need what?”

“A rest. I’ve been cleaning all morning… I need a rest…”

“No, no! Not a rest, arrest!”

“So, like two rests? That would be even better! I could make myself some coffee, and a snack. That would be a lovely rest. You could rest with me.”

“I can’t rest; I’m arresting you!”

“How can you rest me? It’s my body, and my time. I can keep on cleaning the house, or I can stop and take a rest. I’d like the rest actually…

“No, you’re under arrest!”

“How can you be under a rest. You could be early for a rest, or late for a rest, or just in time for a rest, but how could you get under it?”

“It’s what the cowboys on TV say, or the policemen in Lawmakers. They find somebody stealing something and they say they’re under arrest!”

“Oh, maybe they’re taller?”

“Taller?”

“So, the other guy has to get underneath to get the rest?”

“Mom!!!”

“Fine, fine fine. But if you could put off arresting me for a while, maybe I could get my rest by driving us over to Clintons, and getting some lunch, and some ice cream…?”

“You definitely look like you need a rest…” John giggled.

“Let’s go partner!” Mom said, grabbing her sweater.

“Oh, and by the way, you’re going to jail when we get home!” John said.

“I can’t wait! I bet they don’t make you do your own dishes in jail…”

“Never!” John laughed.