Author's note:

I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, I'm just borrowing his world, and his hilarious character coach hedge.

QOTD:

"Come on Luke, join the dark side, it's really cool"

-Darth Stewie, something, something, something dark side.

Epilogue

The hellhound burst through the cheap drywall, into my room. I rolled out of my bed, smashing my forehead on the bedside table as I did. The hellhound crashed down onto my mattress, crushing it to the ground. I leapt to my feet and sprinted out the door of to my bedroom.

I knew there was a javelin on the kitchen table. I'd been polishing it and left it out. I burst into the dining room. No good, my mom must have put the spear away, before she left for work. I turned around and watched the hellhound fly out of my room and crash its shoulder into the wall opposite my door.

I needed a weapon, unfortunately mom didn't allow me to have them. She kept them under lock and key, which hardly slowed me down, but I couldn't pick a lock while a hellhound was breathing down my neck.

I ran foreword into the kitchen, frying pan, I thought, brilliant. I pulled the cast iron skillet from its hook above the stove. I spun around as fast as I could, swinging the pan as I did.

The connection of the frying pan with the dog's snout sent a shockwave reverberating up my arm. The dog was down, but not for long. I needed celestial bronze. I slammed my mother's frying pan into the hellhound's forehead one last time before making a race for the china cabinet. Mother kept a pad lock on that too.

This was no time for daintyness. I cranked my fist back and slammed it strait through the glass. Apparently punching out windows was a lot less gruesome in the movies. The shattered class ripped my hands apart, who would have thought glass was such an effective cutting utensil. It doesn't even look sharp?

I pulled a celestial bronze knife from the cabinet, turning around, catching the dog's chest as it leapt onto me. I collapsed to the ground, with a half dead hellhound still trying to claw me to death. I jabbed the knife in and out of the dog's chest a couple times until it finally exploded into a pile of sticky gold dust.

I had a choice, either clean up what I could of the mess, and try to apologize to my mother, or I could take a shower and crash on the couch.

After my shower I tossed on a heavily faded pair of blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt. I wanted to get back to sleep but I was leaving for camp in the morning and I had told my mom I packed a long time ago. I picked the lock on the weapons chest and strapped my favorite sword and spear to my back pack. I shoved my pack full of whatever clothes happened to be clean, my trusty lock picking tools, a small start up fund of illegal candy and anything else that caught my eye.

The screech was so loud I wasn't sure I'd ever hear again. Apparently I should have picked up the kitchen and the living room, instead of taken a shower and going to sleep.

My mom really couldn't complain, I mean my dad was the god of mischief, she's just lucky I didn't steal, our neighbor, ms. Lavisher's heard of kittens* and invented a new version of the saxophone, I mean Hermes had some crazy adventures under his belt before he even had a belt, in fact before he even had pants, he was still in the crib!

* I couldn't figure out how to spell clauder? Claudier? Clowder? Clawing? Idk the term for a collection of house cats.

P.S. Authors Note.

Thanks for reading. I'll post the first Chapter tomorrow during school hours, lol so I get the most traffic. It'd be awesome if you read and reviewed, any feedback would be nice guys. : )

Yes it's short but it's an epilogue and this is how I wanted it.

If I have the energy to leave the comfort of my dirty clothes and pillows, (sorry i meen my 'room') I'll see you later, but don't get your hopes up,

Markham.