Percy!” he bellowed. He dropped his broom and ran at me. If you’ve never been charged by an enthusiastic Cyclops wearing a flowered apron and rubber cleaning gloves, I’m telling you, it’ll wake you up quick.

That's what being a demigod was all about, not quite belonging in the mortal world or on Mount Olympus but trying to make peace with both sides of their nature.

Great," Percy said. "Seven of us against Hercules." "And a satyr!" Hedge added. "We can take him.

How does it taste?” Carter wondered. Zia smiled. “Stick out your tongue.” To answer Carter’s question, the tattoo tasted like burning car tires. “Ugh.” I spit a blue gob of “order and harmony” into the fountain.

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.

Getting eaten by a giant crocodile was bad enough. The kid with the glowing sword only made my day worse.

Ever had a flying burrito hit you? Well, it's a deadly projectile, right up there with cannonballs and grenades.