Percy Jackson and the Olympians: the lightning thief

"Your real name's not Crusty, is it?" I asked.

 

"Legally, it's Procrustes," he admitted.

 

"The Stretcher," I said. I remembered the story: the giant who'd tried to kill Theseus with excess hospitality on his way to Athens.

 

"Yeah," the salesman said. "But who can pronounce Procrustes? Bad for business. Now

 

'Crusty,' anybody can say that."

 

"You're right. It's got a good ring to it."

 

His eyes lit up. "You think so?"

 

"Oh, absolutely," I said. "And the workmanship on these beds? Fabulous!" He grinned hugely, but his fingers didn't loosen on my neck. "I tell my customers that. Every time. Nobody bothers to look at the workmanship. How many built-in Lava Lamp headboards have you seen?"

 

"Not too many."

 

"That's right!"

 

"Percy!" Annabeth yelled. "What are you doing?"

 

"Don't mind her," I told Procrustes. "She's impossible." The giant laughed. "All my customers are. Never six feet exactly. So inconsiderate. And then they complain about the fitting."

 

"What do you do if they're longer than six feet?"

 

"Oh, that happens all the time. It's a simple fix."

 

He let go of my neck, but before I could react, he reached behind a nearby sales desk and brought out a huge double-bladed brass axe. He said, "I just center the subject as best I can and lop off whatever hangs over on either end."

 

"Ah," I said, swallowing hard. "Sensible."

 

"I'm so glad to come across an intelligent customer!"

 

The ropes were really stretching my friends now. Annabeth was turning pale. Grover made gurgling sounds, like a strangled goose.

 

"So, Crusty ..." I said, trying to keep my voice light. I glanced at the sales tag on the valentine-shaped Honeymoon Special. "Does this one really have dynamic stabilizers to stop wave motion?"

 

"Absolutely. Try it out."

 

"Yeah, maybe I will. But would it work even for a big guy like you? No waves at all?"

 

"Guaranteed."

 

"No way."

 

"Way."

 

"Show me."

 

He sat down eagerly on the bed, patted the mattress. "No waves. See?" I snapped my fingers. "Ergo."

 

Ropes lashed around Crusty and flattened him against the mattress.

 

"Hey!" he yelled.

 

"Center him just right," I said.

 

The ropes readjusted themselves at my command. Crusty's whole head stuck out the top. His feet stuck out the bottom.

 

"No!" he said. "Wait! This is just a demo."

 

I uncapped Riptide. "A few simple adjustments ..."

 

I had no qualms about what I was about to do. If Crusty were human, I couldn't hurt him anyway. If he was a monster, he deserved to turn into dust for a while.

 

"You drive a hard bargain," he told me. "I'll give you thirty percent off on selected floor models.'"

 

"I think I'll start with the top." I raised my sword.

 

"No money down! No interest for six months!"

 

I swung the sword. Crusty stopped making offers.

 

I cut the ropes on the other beds. Annabeth and Grover got to their feet, groaning and wincing and cursing me a lot.

 

"You look taller," I said.

 

"Very funny," Annabeth said. "Be faster next time." I looked at the bulletin board behind Crusty's sales desk. There was an advertisement for Hermes Delivery Service, and another for the All-New Compendium of L.A. Area Monsters—

 

"The only Monstrous Yellow Pages you'll ever need!" Under that, a bright orange flier for DOA Recording Studios, offering commissions for heroes' souls. "We are always looking for new talent!" DOA's address was right underneath with a map.

 

"Come on," I told my friends.

 

"Give us a minute," Grover complained. "We were almost stretched to death.'"

 

"Then you're ready for the Underworld," I said. "It's only a block from here."

 

 

 

 

 

18 ANNABETH DOES

 

 

 

 

 

OBEDIENCE SCHOOL

 

 

We stood in the shadows of Valencia Boulevard, looking up at gold letters etched in black marble: DOA RECORDING STUDIOS.

 

Underneath, stenciled on the glass doors: NO SOLICITORS. NO LOITERING. NO LIVING. It was almost midnight, but the lobby was brightly lit and full of people. Behind the security desk sat a tough-looking guard with sunglasses and an earpiece.

 

I turned to my friends. "Okay. You remember the plan."

 

"The plan," Grover gulped. "Yeah. I love the plan." Annabeth said, "What happens if the plan doesn't work?"

 

"Don't think negative."

 

"Right," she said. "We're entering the Land of the Dead, and I shouldn't think negative." I took the pearls out of my pocket, the three milky spheres the Nereid had given me in Santa Monica. They didn't seem like much of a backup in case something went wrong. Annabeth put her hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Percy. You're right, we'll make it. It'll be fine."

 

She gave Grover a nudge.

 

"Oh, right!" he chimed in. "We got this far. We'll find the master bolt and save your mom. No problem."

 

I looked at them both, and felt really grateful. Only a few minutes before, I'd almost gotten them stretched to death on deluxe water beds, and now they were trying to be brave for my sake, trying to make me feel better.

 

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