Chet remained slumped against his bedroom door for several minutes after Gary left. He awkwardly raised his arm and slapped the doorknob.

It was already locked.

Chet slowly blinked. He dropped his arm back to the ground. It slapped the floor. He folded his arms around his colossal body. The room appeared more spacious than ever. He sniffled, which caused the knocking of pain behind his eyes to increase to a pounding.

He wiped his cheeks on the part of his shirt that hugged his shoulder. Wet spots remained. Chet waited. Then waited some more. Finally, he decided to stand. Chet adjusted to his knees. First his left, then his right. He was now bent over, both his feet and his hands carried his weight. Wobbling slightly he tried to stand up. Chet’s vision trembled and he felt his body fall backward. Chet swung his arm around trying to grab something to impede his fall. He grasped the doorknob once more, this time able to stabilize.

“Ugh…” he groaned.

Chet touched the back of his head. Beneath his golden hair was a bump so bulbous he was sure it resembled a cartoon injury. Chet’s left eyelid spasmed at the touch.

He blinked repeatedly, “The fuck?”

He surveyed his surroundings. Broken in three was the stardust flashlight. The bulb had shattered inward, and parts of the glass hung off the filament. Chet turned and twisted the lock of the door.

It was already locked.

He frowned and stared at it for a moment before he grabbed a broom and a dustpan from his closet and began to sweep. It was slow going since he was gripping the broom so hard that it jerked intermittently from his grasp into the closest furniture piece, wall, or other metallic items.

Thankfully the floor was wood, so the cleaning process wasn’t impeded by the carpet. However, Chet doubted he’d be walking barefoot anytime soon, less micro metals would become lodged into his heel.

He carefully placed the three pieces onto his desk in their correct orientation and order and sat down. Shining from under the cracks in the thoracic region of the device was the glowing stardust. He must’ve stared at the constant outpour of light for more than sixty seconds before he tore his eyes away and trotted to the door.

Chet grabbed the doorknob lock and twisted.

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It was already locked.

Chet winced; the headache had advanced from a pounding to the equivalent of a rhino slamming itself into his head. His vision blurred. The door caught him and steadied him. It was a little while before he was able to stumble back to the desk.

The Radiant Stardust twinkled mockingly. He ignored it and began the process of fixing it. The process was like a puzzle, with different pieces that needed to be fit together. However, someone had cut off the tabs of some of the pieces and glued them on other pieces, and the pieces were all the same color, and he was blindfolded, and drunk.

Chet squinted at the metallic base, grabbed a screwdriver, and untwisted one of the few nails on the device. Except it didn’t budge. He frowned.

“Lefty loosey, righty tighty,” Chet whispered.

Nothing.

Chet turned over the device and identified the problem. The metal was bent which caused the deformation of the nail. His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath. Chet turned it over and tried another nail.

His hands trembled as he twisted the nail with his whole body. The screwdriver paused, slipped from the nail divot, and plunged into his left arm. He dropped the screwdriver’s handle, but it remained standing from his flesh like a statue.

Chet stared at it.

He calmly re-gripped the handle and pulled it out. About an inch of blood stained the metal. Chet returned to the device and inspected it while blood pumped out of the hole in his arm. He placed his finger on the edge of the metal carapace and slid it down the edge. A bump. This time Chet placed the tip of the screwdriver under the bump and pried it away from the body.

A mesh of colored and black wires appeared before him. He grinned and adjusted his position to better view the wires. His left arm slid across the desk easily due to the viscous blood that had pooled there.

Chet stared at the mesh of wires.

The different colors confused him.

Minutes ticked by in seconds.

Chet grabbed the screwdriver and plunged it into the heart of the device. He threw it against the floor where it bounced and hit the foot of his bed. He snatched the other pieces and scrabbled after the third. Like a caveman with a rock, he bashed the bulbous-third of the device with itself. He pulled out the wires. He smashed the battery. It felt good.

Gravity had pulled the blood from his forearm down to his now-coated hand in a tree-branched path. Only warped metal and ripped rubber remained.

“Are you okay in there dear?” asked a soft voice from the door. His mother.

Chet froze like a deer in the headlights of a speeding automobile.

He tiptoed to the door and turned the lock.

It was already locked.

His eyes widened and he stared at his hands.

His mother knocked on the door, “I heard something in there, are you okay?”

Chet rested his back on the door and slid down to the ground. He rubbed his temples. A minute passed, “Maybe you don’t want to talk about it right now. That’s alright.”

Something clattered behind the door and the light that previously shined from the crack under the floor darkened.

“Don’t tell Robert but I brought you dinner, extra love.”

Chet trembled at the foot of the door long enough that when he checked the other side, the food had long gone cold.