You Spoke The Truth, Percy Jackson. You

Desjardins Was Literally Fuming. His Tattered Robes Still Smoked From Battle. (carter Says I Shouldn’t Mention That His Pink Boxer Shorts Were Showing, But They Were!)

Hercules,huh? Percy Frowned. "that Guy Was Like The Starbucks Of Ancient Greece. Everywhere You Turn--there He Is.

All I Could Think To Say Was, "the Lakers Are My Home Team!

Her Freckles Were Orange, As If Somebody Had Spray-painted Her Face With Liquid Cheetos.

My Name Is Percy Jackson. I'm Twelve Years Old. Until A Few Months Ago, I Was A Boarding Student At Yancy Academy, A Private School For Troubled Kids In Upstate New York. Am I A Troubled Kid? Yeah. You Could Say That.