Deadlines Just Aren't Real To Me Until

"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!"

Even Dionysus's Welcome-home Speech Wasn't Enough To Dampen My Spirits. "yes, Yes, So The Little Brat Didn't Get Himself Killed And Now He'll Have An Even Bigger Head. Well, Huzzah For That. In Other Announcements, There Will Be No Canoe Races This Saturday.

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.

Mugged By My Own Mother.

Doesn't Miss Many Meals, Does He?" Zeus Muttered. "tyson, For Your Bravery In The War, And For Leading The Cyclopes, You Are Appointed A General I. The Armies Of Olympus. You Shall Henceforth Lead You Breathren Into War Whenever Required By The Gods. And You Shall Have A New...um...what Kind Of Weapon Would You Like? A Sword? An Axe?" "stick!" Tyson Said, Showing His Broken Club. "very Well," Zeus Said. "we Will Grant You A New, Er, Stick. The Best Stick That May Be Found." "hooray!