In the center stood a marble alter, where a kid in a toga was doing some sort of ritual in front of a massive golden statue of the big dude himself:Jupiter the sky god, dressed in a silk XXXL purple toga, holding a lightning bolt. "It doesn't look like that," Percy muttered. "What?" Hazel asked. "The master bolt," Percy said. "What are you talking about?" "I-" Percy frowned. For a second, he'd thought he remembered something. Now it was gone. "Nothing, I guess.

You mean a bad heel?" I said. "Couldn't I just, like, wear something besides sandals? No offense." -Percy

Laistry....I can't even say that. What would you call them in English?" "Canadians.

Percy, meet Gladiola. Gladiola, Percy." I stared at Annabeth, figuring she'd crack up at this practical joke they were playing on me, but she looked deadly serious. "I'm not saying hello to a pink poodle," I said. "Forget it." "Percy," Annabeth said. "I said hello to the poodle. You say hello to the poodle." The poodle growled. "I said hello to the poodle.

No more Lastrygonians.” Ella fluttered down and landed next to them. “Six minus six is zero. Spears are good for subtraction, yep.

He looked like an evil male model, showing off what the fashionable college age villain was wearing to Harvard this year.

Life is only precious because it ends, kid. Take it from a god. You mortals don't know how lucky you are