A/N: I own nothing of this story except for my dang bedroom door that creaks every time you move it! Weird thing is, it only creaks when you open or close it slowly...oh well. I think Percy needs room in his life to think about small, unimportant things. So here it is--enjoy!

I probably have more important things to worry about than a defective door. Like whether I'm going to throw the world into chaos, for example. But there's just something about the little things in life that help keep me on the brink of sanity. Nevertheless, you might think that I lost more marbles than I could play with after you finish reading this. Heck, you probably think I'm crazy because I came up with a weird saying like that.

Anyway, it was lunchtime and I was walking out of my bedroom so my mom wouldn't call for the millionth time (okay, okay—maybe the fiftieth time) when I heard it. The hinges of my door made this unbearable creaking sound. I'd been listening to it for awhile now, but for some reason I just couldn't stand it today. And I'd already asked to get it oiled or something, like, three thousand times (I'm not exaggerating--a lot).

"Mom! When are you going to get Blowfish to fix this door?" I yelled. Then I turned around and saw Paul Blofis coming up the hallway. He stared at me like I'd just said "Koala bear tea tastes great!" or something like that.

"Who's 'Blowfish'?" my mom's boyfriend asked slowly.

"Uh…um…my dog!" I realized how insane that sounded the moment it left my lips. I'd never even owned a dog in my life. I think Paul was going to point this out when I put in, "My imaginary dog!" This sounded even more stupid, but I'd already brushed past him and down the stairs before I could glimpse his face. It must have been priceless. A real Kodak moment. Well, we were going to have more serious problems than my mental stability when Paul found out who my real dad was.

"Hey, Percy! Where are you going? You haven't even eaten—" my mom frowned as I dashed past her.

"Later Mom," I shouted over my shoulder. "I need to—uh—get something." With that, I slammed the front door behind me.

I figured that I'd have to fix that annoying door myself before I went mental and jumped off the building from lack of silent hinges. I walked through the streets, my feet going wherever they felt like it while I tried to remember a place that sold nice, new, quiet door hinges.

On an impulse, I opened the door of one shop and walked in. I scanned the aisles in front of me. I was beginning to realize that something was wrong when a guy with a red apron paused in front of me. "What do you need?"

"Uh, do you sell…door hinges? Non-creaking ones?" I decided I might as well take a shot at it.

"This is a grocery store."

"Right. I'll be going now." I backed out the door and walked as fast as I could before the guy called the insane asylum and asked if they had any openings.

Finally, I found a hardware store and walked in. The door made a dinging noise whenever it opened. Better than an irritating creak, but I really wanted something soundless.

After twenty minutes of wandering the aisles and employees eying me suspiciously (maybe it was something about me muttering "Stupid creaking door!" over and over again), I finally found hinges that were just right.

I was approaching the checkout counter when it suddenly hit me. I hadn't brought money.

I swore so loudly in Ancient Greek that people in front of me turned around and wondered if I had insulted them in a foreign language. I dug in my pockets and let out a sigh of relief. Luckily, I had a crumpled twenty dollar bill, plus a couple of golden drachmas, a stick of gum, and a broken comb. That would explain the endless sharp poking against my thigh the whole way here.

I gave the money to the cashier, who held it up to the light to make sure it was real (I mean, sure, it was pretty wrinkly and old, but did I look that suspicious? I'm just a regular teenage boy trying to buy door hinges so I can have a clear conscious when I have to make the big decision that will either make or break modern civilization as we know it) and reluctantly cashed it in, gave me my change, and handed me a plastic bag with the package of hinges.

Back at home, I headed happily up to my room with screwdriver and package in hand. Fortunately, Paul wasn't there. I had a feeling he'd talked to my mom, though, because she gave me a confused look that said "Since when did you have an imaginary dog named Blowfish?" or something to that extent.

I screwed the last of the nails into place and stood back to admire my handiwork. I wasn't too bad in woodshop, so replacing hinges had been pretty easy for me. I sighed contentedly and walked into my room, closing the door behind me. Squeak.

I turned around slowly. I wanted to chuck the weight of the sky at that door. I turned around and walked calmly to the other side of the room. I opened the window (noiselessly, thank the gods. Why can't the door learn from the window's example?), stuck my head out, and screamed.

So how was it? Sensational or disgusting? Tell me!! Reviews are welcome!!