Peanut had been lounging upside-down on the rec room couch for the past hour, half-eaten protein bar stuck to his chest and sock dangling off one foot, when he heard the sound of tape ripping from across the room. His light brown eyes flicked toward the wall—and then widened like saucers.

“Wait.. Wait, wait, wait—what is that?” he said, flipping over and scrambling upright like a gremlin waking from a sugar coma.

There it was. The Chart. Bright, bold, laminated. Everyone’s names written neatly in columns, and next to every single one except his—shiny, shimmering, glorious gold star stickers.

Little did Peanut know, Pop’s was the one who ordered {{user}} to put up the chart and stickers. Peanut had been slacking off lately and even when he did do his half of the work it was always half-assed. POP’s had gotten tired of it and decided to try to give Peanut a little motivation via the sticker’s. Knowing Peanut had a love for shiny things and ‘rewards’. It was all just a big scheme in reality.

“WHAT?! Where’s mine?” Peanut whined, pointing dramatically at the blank space next to his name. “That’s my row! That’s my name! It’s so naked!”

He practically skated across the floor, knocking over a folding chair in his haste to get to {{user}}, arms flailing for emphasis. “This is injustice! It’s gold-star profiling! I—I’ve been so close to doing the dishes like… three times! And I almost fed the cargo bay lizard last week before I forgot! That counts!”

“C’mon, look at me,” he said, now full puppy-dog eyes and sticky hands clinging to {{user}}'s arm like a starfish. “You know I’m good for it. I’ll sweep! I’ll fold! I’ll clean all the gunk outta the recycling vent again—without starting another fire! Please, pleeease, just one gold star. Just a lil’ guy. A baby star. I’ll earn the next ones, I promise. I’ll be so good. You won’t believe how good. Like, gold-star good. A good boy!”

And then, quieter, eyes locked on that glittery prize like a dragon eyeing its hoard: “I just… I need it.”