It was if the city knew about Percy's dream of Gaea. It knew that the earth goddess intended on razing all human civilization, and this city, which had stood for thousands if years, was saying back at her: You wanna dissolve this city, Dirt Face? Give it a shot. In other words, it was the Coach Hedge of mortal cities- only taller.

Big brothers are the ones who are supposed to pull their punches. Little sisters—well, we should be able to hit as hard as we like, shouldn’t we?

He nodded nervously. ‘He looks like a magician. I hate magicians. They usually have rabbits.’ I stared at him. ‘You’re scared of bunnies?’ ‘Blah-hah-hah! They’re big bullies. Always stealing celery from defenceless satyrs.

There!" Apollo pointed. "Long Island, dead ahead. Let's slow down, dear. 'Dead' is only an expression.

Elections only happen in two ways," Reyna said. "Either the legion raises someone on a shield after a major success on the battlefield-and we haven't had any major battles-or we hold a ballot on the evening of June 24, at the Feast of Fortuna. That's in five days." Percy frowned. "You have a feast for tuna?

Our problems started in Dallas, when the fire-breathing sheep destroyed the King Tut exhibit.

She wanted me to betray you guys, and I was like, 'Pfft, right, I'm gonna listen to a face in the potty sludge'.