All I Could Think To Say Was,

You Know How Hard It Is To Feel Like An Extreme Falcon-headed Combat Machine When Somebody Calls You "chicken Man"?

Words Had Started Swimming Off The Page, Circling My Head, The Letters Doing One-eighties As If They Were Riding Skateboards.

Wonderful, Annabeth Thought. Her Own Mother, The Most Levelheaded Olympian, Was Reduced To A Raving, Vicious Scatterbrain In A Subway Station. And, Of All The Gods Who Might Help Them, The Only Ones Not Affected By The Greek-roman Schism Seemed To Be Aphrodite, Nemesis And Dionysus. Love, Revenge, Wine. Very Helpful.

Reyna Sent Me To Get Percy," Frank Said. "did Octavian Accept You?" "yeah," Percy Said. "he Slaughtered My Panda.

If Anyone Asks You If You’re Taken,” I Said, “the Answer Is Yes.” “i Think I Can Live With That,” He Promised. “good,” I Said. “because You Don’t Want To See Me Be Cross.” “too Late.” “shut Up And Dance, Walt.” “shut Up And Dance, Walt.” We Did—with The Music Of A Psychotic Griffin Screaming Behind Us, And The Sirens And Horns Of Brooklyn Wailing Below. It Was Quite Romantic.