Cookie Jars and Guns

Use the following words in a story: hypocrite, cookie jar, city and telephone. Taken from creativewritingprompts.com

"I'm really nervous about this trip," Grace hissed to her long time best friend Jill, as she shoved shorts and t-shirts in to her duffel bag. She wished she could protest louder but Jill had insisted that John not find out about her apprehension. John sat in the next room transfixed on the National News. Grace doubted he was sober enough to register the anxiety in her voice anyway. She had watched him down one beer after another all afternoon. She wanted to be mean and tell him that getting drunk wouldn't make it all go away. He would still have to deal with it eventually and he should just toughen up. She wanted to be mean to Jill also and tell her that she was not the Savior and she couldn't fix everything so why didn't she just leave them alone already! She wanted to say these things, but she didn't want to be alone so she kept her mouth mostly shut in the hopes that she could hang onto her friends for a little while longer.
Suddenly, Grace had an alarming thought, "Do they even have telephones in this city?" she asked.
Jill thought for a minute, "Um, yeah, I think they do. Yes! I remember I used one once!" Jill sounded so proud Grace wanted to hit her.
"You think? Don't you think that's pretty important information? How are we supposed to make a local, non cell phone call that is a matter of life and death if they don't have public phones?" Her voice was escalating now, "Shouldn't you know for sure?!"
Jill looked at Grace thoughtfully and put her hand gently on her arm, "Why don't you take a little break? Maybe have a cookie or something."
"I don't have any cookies," Grace answered dryly.
"Oh, I thought I saw a cookie jar- don't you keep it filled?" Jill asked optimistically.
Grace looked at her as if she were five years old and said, "I keep my gun in there."
"Oh!" said Jill, "Well, grab that. We may need it."
Grace trudged into the kitchen to fetch her gun, passing John on the way. She forced a smile and gave him a thumbs up sign. He tried to reciprocate but ended up poking himself in the forehead. She rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to tip his recliner.  While she was in the kitchen she put on a pot of coffee, although Lord knows they didn't need the caffeine. While it was brewing she sat on the counter and contemplated the events that had led her to this fateful day. She was pretty sure it was fateful. Either that or just some really bad freaking luck. She wondered about her dog Hank. What would happen to him if she never came back? Did the kennel keep him forever? They'd probably find him a home. She hoped it was good. He was such a baby about new people. Poor thing. She made John a cup of coffee first and told him he had to drink it. Then she made one for herself and Jill, balancing both cups and her gun as she walked to the back room.
"Wow. I hope the safety is on," Jill said, as she rescued one of the tilting mugs.
"Well duh," said Grace, as she checked and discreetly switched the safety lever on.
"John is quite the winner isn't he?"she asked, sarcastically. "Do we really need him?"
"Don't be such a hypocrite, Grace. You know you acted the same way your first time out."
"Maybe. But I don't think I looked so pathetic and I know I never drank Budweiser until I was green," she said, with disdain.
Jill gave her an exasperated look and rolled her eyes. "No, you just smoked doobies until you were green. That was no picnic for me, leading your stoned butt all over an international airport."
Grace looked down sheepishly and sipped her coffee.
"Geez! We had to go to three snack stands to buy more bags of chocolate chip cookies. Noooo, you couldn't have the oatmeal ones. It had to be chocolate chip," Jill continued.
"Whatever. Fine. I'll be nice to John, but if her gets us killed, so help me..."