"Poison!" Grover yelped. "Don't let those things touch you or..." "Or we'll die?" I guessed. "Well...after you shrivel slowly to dust, yes." "Let's a… - Rick Riordan

Annabeth: Hey, Seaweed Brain.
Percy: Will you stop calling me that?
Annabeth: You know you love it.

All I could think of was that the teachers must've found the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorms room. Or maybe they'd realized I got my Essay on Tom Sawyer from the Internet without ever reading the book and now they were going to take away my grade. Or worse, they were going to make me read the book.

Mythologically speaking, if there's anything I hate worse than trios of old ladies, it's bulls. Last summer, I fought the Minotaur on top of Half-Blood Hill. This time what I saw up there was even worse: two bulls. And not just regular bulls - bronze ones the size of elephants. And even that wasn't bad enough. Naturally they had to breathe fire, too.