We'll Have To Work On Your Bunny

The World Was Collapsing, And The Only Thing That Really Mattered To Me Was That She Was Alive.

Lovely. Imprisoned In A Nursery School Dungeon.

I Concentrated Hard And Snapped My Fingers. "you Don't See The Sword," I Told The Girl. "it's Just A Ballpoint Pen." She Blinked. "um . . . No. It's A Sword, Weirdo.

In A Way, It's Nice To Know That There Are Greek Gods Out There, Because You Have Somebody To Blame When Things Go Wrong. For Instance, When You're Walking Away From A Bus That's Just Been Attacked By Monster Hags And Blown Up By Lightning, And It's Raining On Top Of Everything Else, Most People Might Think That's Just Really Bad Luck; When You're A Half-blood, You Understand That Some Devine Force Is Really Trying To Mess Up Your Day.

Okay," Annabeth Said. "what Exactly Do You Smell?" "something Bad," Tyson Answered. "great," Annabeth Grumbled. "that Clears It Up.