The World May Need Fixing, But It's

Two Hundred Romans, And No One’s Got A Pen? Never Mind!" He Slung His M16 Onto His Back And Pulled Out A Hand Grenade. There Were Many Screaming Romans. Then The Hand Grenade Morphed Into A Ballpoint Pen, And Mars Began To Write. Frank Looked At Percy With Wide Eyes. He Mouthed: Can Your Sword Do Grenade Form? Percy Mouthed Back, No. Shut Up.

All I Could Think To Say Was, "the Lakers Are My Home Team!

"something Was Wrong With Luke," Annabeth Muttered, Poking At The Fire With Her Knife. "did You Notice The Way He Was Acting?" "he Looked Pretty Pleased To Me," I Said. "like He'd Spent A Nice Day Torturing Heroes." "that's Not True! There Was Something Wrong With Him. He Looked... Nervous. He Told His Monsters To Spare Me. He Wanted To Tell Me Something." "probably, 'hi, Annabeth! Sit Here With Me And Watch While I Tear Your Friends Apart. It'll Be Fun!"

I Got The Feeling Poseidon Really Didn't Know What To Think Of Me. He Didn't Know Whether He Was Happy To Have Me As A Son Or Not. In A Strange Way, I Was Glad That Poseidon Was So Distant. If He'd Tried To Apologize, Or Told Me He Love Me, Or Even Smiled. It Would've Felt Fake. Like Human Dad, Making Some Lame Excuse For Not Being Around. I Could Live With That. After All, I Wasn't Sure About Him Yet, Either.

I’m The God Of Funerals. I Know Every Death Custom In The World—how To Die Properly, How To Prepare The Body And Soul For The Afterlife. I Live For Death.” “you Must Be Fun At Parties,” I Said.