[Chapter Two: I Make a Splash at Camp Fuck You Die]
[My name is Percy Jackson.
If you want to get birth certificate picky about it - and most of the time I don’t - it’s really Perseus Jackson, after the Greek hero. He’s one of the only old school demigods who got a real happy ending, so my mom was hoping I’d turn out like him. I did, sort of. We’ve both whacked Medusa’s head off, we’ve both gotten stuck holding some old ladies’ eyeball (that’s right: multiple ladies, one eyeball. Second worst cab ride of my life), we’ve both had some pretty awesome relationships with pegasi, and I’m working on that living happily ever after thing. I like to think I’m doing pretty well at it.
Still, no matter how much I’ve got in common with the first Perseus, I never thought I’d repeat this stunt of his.]
[OUT OF NOWHERE A GIANT WAVE POPS OUT OF THE LAKE AND DROPS A PERSON-SIZED BRONZE CHEST NEXT TO THE CANOE HUT
When the chest cracks open, a messy-but-dry teenaged boy in a school uniform rolls out and looks back the lake]
Okay. So the monster problem is pretty bad.
(( OOC: Bed for me! I'll pick up new and old threads tomorrow morning. ))