This story is dedicated to dogs everywhere (especially my own dog, Cosmo, who is dumber than a rock and more hyper than a bag of pop-rocks (they are the epitome of hyper for me)). I wish I owned Percy Jackson, Greek myths, a working copy of Monty Python and the Holy Grail, The Mark of Athena, Nico DiAngelo, a mansion, one million dollars, Maximum Ride, Fang, Dylan (so I could kill Dylan, slap Max, slap Fang and just move on with life), water bending abilities, Harry Potter or a magical wand. I wish that I owned all of these, but sadly, I do not. And if you read any of my friend's (TheWorldBookGirl's) stories, she does not own these things either but is in complete denial. She proofread this for me.
Enough with my boring disclaimer!
On with the story!
Nico DiAngelo and the Big, Bouncy, Red Rubber Ball
Nico grumbled to himself as he disembarked of Charon's boat.
He could have been a son of Apollo or Ares. Or Hermes. Or even Janus! Anything but Hades.
Not that he didn't like being the child of the underworld. There were plenty of perks. The ability to summon the dead. A sword of Stygian Iron. The power to open a crevice in the earth. Visitation rights to the deceased. Shadow travel.
However, with those perks came a lot of downsides. His small aversion to the sunlight. Shunning at camp. Constantly being surrounded by dead people. Feeling when someone near was passing on. The way that all of spring time hated him because of Persephone. How 'mythical creatures' like pegasi always complained that he smelled like death. Killing things if he ever lost control.
But those weren't the worst part.
Because out of all the gods and goddesses (except for maybe Hera and she didn't have demigod children), Hades was the only one who gave chores.
Not quests. Chores. Granted, quests were sometimes awarded too - but chores were the dominant tasks. Chores like, "Nico! Go polish Persephone's garden statues!" (Hades) or "Nico! Get me some water from the Lethe!" (Again, Hades) or "Nico! Be a dear and bring this message to Demeter for me will you?" (Persephone) or "Nico! Eat your cereal!" (Yes, this was classified as a chore and was frequently assigned when Demeter was visiting.) Or even the worst task of all. "Hey! Nico! Take out the trash!" (That request came far to often and interchangeably between Persephone, Hades, Demeter or what ever other divine entity happened to be within the vicinity.) Most chores were not worth the miserly allowance of three drachma a week.
Chores like this one, for example.
As he passed through the security gates to Hades, he looked up. Cerberus wasn't there today. In his place were the three Kindly Ones. Alecto scowled at him. The Furies looked even more unhappy than usual. Nico didn't blame them. After all, watching for living souls trespassing upon the underworld (which was attempted only about twice a century), had to be no where near as entertaining as hunting young demigods. Apparently they were fun to chase. (Not that he would attempt it. Way to much cannibalistic murder for his taste. And screaming.)
He walked over to a nearby almost empty field of Asphodel. The almost emptiness was very important. Crushing souls was a bad idea in general.
Stopping at the edge of the field, Nico drew two objects out of his pocket. The first was a whistle made of ice. The second, a red rubber ball the size of his fist. This he tapped three times and said, "μεγέθυνση." As it traveled through the air, the ball would now grow to the size of a dodge ball, but retain its previous weight and air speed velocity. One of the perks of magic. (A/N: The air speed velocity of the ball was approximately the same as the air speed velocity of an unladen African swallow. Definitely not one carrying a coconut by the husk. You rock if you understand what on earth I am talking about.)
He looked at the whistle in his other hands, drew a shuddering breath, raised the whistle to his lips and blew. Hard.
He couldn't hear anything. Then the whistle shattered. From the other side of the field bounded a large figure. A large three headed figure. A large three headed dog. A large, slobbering, three headed dog. A large, slobbering, ferocious, three headed dog. A large, slobbering, ferocious, three headed dog named Cerberus.
So the large, slobbering, ferocious, three headed dog named Cerberus bounded towards Nico at top speed, skidding to a halt when he saw the ball in Nico's hand. All six eyes fixated on the ball, Cerberus resumed a slow trot in Nico's direction. Halting directly in front of the boy, Cerberus sat, tense with anticipation, still staring at the ball.
Nico held up the object of the dog's fascination, smirking slightly at Cerberus's reaction - a slight wag of the tail and adorable puppy dog whine. Nico moved the ball left, then right, noticing how the different heads got more hopeful as he moved the ball, and how every one of those giant puppy dog eyes was fixed on that little round sphere.
Nico drew his arm back and prepared to throw. Cerberus's tail started thumping the ground so hard that it was creating the feeling of a minor earthquake.
Nico decided to stop torturing the poor animal and whipped his arm around as fast as he could, throwing the ball as far as was possible.
Cerberus sprinted toward the other end of the field, yapping joyfully. (These joyful yaps terrified the souls in a nearby field of punishment.) He continued to chase the ball, not noticing as it began a gradual descent and eventual dropping to the ground. He was so preoccupied with running that he only clued in to the fact that it wasn't in the air anymore after about 20 meters of joyful scampering.
As soon as he realized this, he turned around so fast that his left head was whipped with his tail. Then he raced back toward Nico, stopping in front of him with a confused look.
Nico's smirk grew - almost to a smile - and he pointed to where he could see a splotch of red rubber on the field. Cerberus looked at it. Then looked at Nico. Then the ball. Then Nico. Then the ball. Then... scampered toward the ball as quickly as he could. All of his heads reached down to scoop the little sphere up, but missed because he was traveling so fast. He ran in a small circle around the ball, trying to stop. Eventually, he succeeded and the left head picked up the little toy.
Elegantly and gallantly, Cerberus returned to Nico with his spoils of war, heads in the air, proudly trotting back to his new master. When he reached Nico, he dropped the spoils of war at the boy's feet and sat, awaiting praise.
Looking at the slime covered rubber ball that Cerberus had just returned and the triumphant dog sitting in front of him, Nico started to laugh. He picked up the ball and threw it again.
Maybe chores weren't so bad after all.
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Plus,
Monty Python Rocks.
