Italy #3

SCENE: Parking garage, Milan, Italy
CHARACTERS: Family members x 5
ACTION: Cameras, bags and mountain bike in boot. Close boot.
M: Where are the keys?
J: In the boot.
M: OK, we'll get in from the inside.
J: The doors just locked automatically.
M: Oh no! Self-locking when the boot closes. (Takes out cellphone, calls car hire company. Words per minute and hand gestures more Italian than the Italians. Finishes call.)
M: They don't have the spare key.
Chorus:  But we're leaving for Tuscany tomorrow!
M: Don't worry. We'll break a window and pay for it. It's cheaper than hiring another car.
REST OF SCENE: None of us has ever broken into a car before. What do we use? We try a spanner. A hammer. A spark plug. My father, who I believe has never committed an act of violence in some 84 years or so, grabbed this opportunity to engage in a nefarious deed and bashed away industriously. To no avail. Not a dent, chip, scratch or crack. We tried every window. Nothing. They must be made from some military strength material. What are the Italians afraid of, drive-by shootings? (That could be it, of course.) We are forced to give up our attempts at breaking and entering, and head off on foot for the Duomo and a spot of sightseeing while M takes a taxi to the airport to hire another car.
                                                          -END OF PART ONE-