A bolt, a colt, and a dolt.
He turned the door knob. It turned cleanly, but when he pulled, the door didn’t open.
“The hell?” Len muttered, and tried it again. Same thing. He tried it four or five more times.
“Dammit.” He set the can of malt liquor down, put both hands on the knob. It turned freely, but the door still wouldn’t open.
He tried pushing the door instead. Nope. “Naw, that’d just be stupid.”
Len shouted, “Honey! Damn door won’t open again.”
Kari’s tired voice drifted from the kitchen. “Did you open the second lock this time?”
Oh. “Yeah, that’s got it. Thanks, sweetie.”