A/N:

So I decided to do something a bit different from the others. The line "Hermes has threatened me with slow mail, lousy Internet service and a horrible stock market if I publish this story." from Heroes of Olympus: The Demigod Diaries stayed in my head even after I finished reading the book. So I let my mind wander, and this is what I came up with. Enjoy, and please review to tell me what you think about it!

Set before Heroes of Olympus: The Demigod Diaries was published.

The Diary of Luke Castellan. Leo Valdez and the Quest for Buford. Son of Magic. Three stories down, one more to go. He could wrap it all up by the next day and send The Demigod Diaries on its way to the publisher.

Before his fingers hit the keys, they froze above the keyboard. He knew he was taking a huge risk, writing this story. Like all the others, it was a real story, which was of course going to be presented to the public as fiction so he wouldn't get into trouble with the gods. Still, he was uncertain. A particular god would be really unhappy if he wrote about his, ah, mishap that involved his symbol of power, two demigods, a (thankfully) now dead giant, and his ego.

Ah well. What could possibly happen? He was writing 'fiction', after all. He typed the words and they appeared on the screen in bold - Percy Jackson and the Staff of Hermes.

No sooner than he had lifted his fingers from the keys, light flashed in front of his eyes, and his house rumbled the slightest bit. He blinked, shook his head to clear his foggy vision, then flinched as he saw the disapproving face of the god of thieves appear on his screen.

Hermes's pixellated, two-dimensional head looked ready to delete every word on Rick Riordan's laptop and toss it into Tartarus.

Ping. A little box appeared at the lower right corner of Riordan's screen. Written across the top of the box were the words:

HermesNet LiveChat

Riordan glanced from the chat window to the steaming, high-resolution face of the god and back again with scrunched eyebrows. He had no idea if he was supposed to speak to the face, or type a greeting into the chat box. He decided to go with the latter, since it would be less awkward. Something short and simple would be a good conversation starter for a situation like this, he decided.

rickriordan: Good afternoon.

Hermes's stare did not waver. Riordan wondered if he could talk.

Ping.

hermeez_almighty: Mr. Riordan, will you kindly explain to me why you are writing a story regarding me and my staff?

Riordan muffled a guffaw. Hermeez Almighty. Quite a predictable username. Hermes raised an eyebrow as if he could hear him through the screen.

hermeez_almighty: Problem?

rickriordan: Nothing. As for your previous question, I was about to…

He didn't know what to say. What was he going to tell him? He was about to feed his computer? He was going to write lyrics for a musical? He wanted to make some pancakes and needed to be excused for a moment? Could you lie to a god?

rickriordan: … write about the time Percy and Annabeth helped you retrieve your staff.

The floorboards underneath his feet shuddered ever so slightly, like a volcano seconds before the eruption. Either one was sprouting beneath his house right now, or Hermes was really, really angry.

hermeez_almighty: NO. YOU WILL NOT WRITE A SINGLE WORD REGARDING THAT MATTER. I WILL NOT BECOME THE LAUGHING STOCK OF OLYMPUS! I WILL NOT BE MOCKED!

rickriordan: um lord hermes can

rickriordan: yoi plrase caml dowm

rickriordan: pleas

(It was kind of hard to type properly with earthquakes threatening to rip your floor apart.)

rickriordan: I THINJ MT HOUES IS GOIHNT TIO CALLAPSE

hermeezalmighty: good riddance if it does then

hermeezalmighty: would teach you a lesson or two about minding your own business

The vibrations were getting less violent, so Riordan guessed he was calming down a little. At least, he hoped so.

rickriordan: what's the harm in writing a story that everyone thinks of as fiction?

hermeezalmighty: i'll make your internet crash for eternity the minute you publish that story, son

ratsftw_G: wow that escalated quickly

Riordan felt his eyebrows wrinkle in surprised confusion. That username sounded suspiciously like…

Ping.

msmartha: george stop barging into conversations

Ping.

ratsftw_G: am not

Ping. Ping. Ping.

msmartha: are too

ratsftw_G: am not

msmartha: are too

ratsftw_G: am

hermeezalmighty: enough you're both interrupting

msmartha: dionysus is waiting for you on skype, hermes

ratsftw_G: and you promised me a rat

hermeezalmighty: martha, what is he even doing on skype

hermeezalmighty: george, I told you I'll get you a rat later

ratsftw_G: no you didn't

msmartha: i don't know why either

ratsftw_G: you don't know anything

hermeezalmighty: will you two please be quiet I'm trying to talk to -

Riordan quickly hit the logout button. The chaotic pings and angry messaging instantly got replaced by his unfinished document. The face exploded into a million pixels.

For a moment, everything was still. No electronic sounds, mad gods or snakes with attitude anywhere. The ground stopped rumbling.

BOOM!

His room was lit up in bright blue light. Instinctively, he shielded his eyes. When he opened them, a man was standing in the middle of his room, frowning at him disapprovingly. He was wearing a white and blue shirt that said: Connect with anyone at anywhere with LiveChat today! A huge pair of headphones rested on his head. When Riordan looked closer, he could see two wriggly snakes slithering on the headband. He shuddered at the thought of George and Martha accidentally sliding into Hermes's ear canals.

Hermes stomped over to Riordan's desk and peered at the screen. His eyes scanned its contents, then flitted over to meet Riordan's eyes.

He was dangerously poker-faced.

"If my threat of lousy internet service doesn't have any effect on you," Hermes began slowly, "I can always slow your mail down. Or, if you find that just fine, I still have the power to make things go awry for you at the stock market. Understood?"

Riordan could only nod.

"Good. Now I would love to turn you into a fuzzy rat for a week or two and show you to George, but unfortunately Dionysus is screaming in my ear right now-" Hermes winced, and Riordan almost swore that he could hear some faint, drunken yelling.

"Seriously, what god prefers chatting on a social networking site when he could just split your eardrums from a million miles away?" Hermes grumbled.

The irritated look returned to his face, and he put a finger on his headphones. "No George, not now! Your rat is coming soon, I promise! And no, I am not referring to Mr. Riordan." He paused for a moment, as if he was listening to another voice. "Yes, thank you Martha, for talking some sense into him."

Riordan burst out: "Why can't I hear them?" then instantly clamped his mouth shut in a panic. He'd just sealed his fate. He was about to be changed into a furry little rodent, a cute one if he was lucky. George would stop complaining soon.

Thank the gods, Hermes was slightly distracted and not that mad anymore. "Oh, I set them on vibrate just before coming to visit you."

Okay. Vibrate. Headphones. Riordan gave up trying to make sense of everything.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'd better log on to Skype before Dionysus finds a way to turn my caduceus into a grapevine. But remember my warning, Mr. Riordan. I know how bad horrible stock markets can be for you." He started to glow, and Riordan averted his eyes.

A millisecond later, Hermes, along with all signs of his presence, was gone.

He went back to staring at the blinking cursor onscreen. Hermes's threats still rang in his mind loud and clear.

But he wanted to write the story real bad…

"Meh." He poised his fingers above the keyboard and resumed typing.