Words had started swimming off the page, circling my head, the letters doing one-eighties as if they were riding skateboards.

Mark my words, nothing smells worse than burned scorpion.

Chiron, I don't think the attic is the proper place for our new Oracle, do you?" "No, indeed." Chiron looked a lot better now that Apollo had worked some medical magic on him. "Rachel may use a guest room in the Big House for now, until we give the matter more thought." "I'm thinking a cave in the hills," Apollo mused. "With torches and a big purple curtain over the entrance . . . really mysterious. But inside, a totally decked-out pad with a game room and one of those home theater systems.

Running with a drowsy child of Hades was more like doing a 3 -legged race with a life size rag doll.

This is Graceland. Home of the most famous musician in the world.” “Michael Jackson lived here?” “No, dummy,” Carter said. “Elvis Presley.

On the bright side," Percy said, "both Jason and I outrank you, Octavian. So we can both tell you to shut up.

Hephaestus glowered up at us. “I didn’t make you, did I?” Uh,” Annabeth said, “no, sir.” Good,” the god grumbled. “Shoddy workmanship.