It's quick and short, something that I wrote for a self-employed dragon slayer. Yep.

Um. AU, obviously. When do I ever write something that follows the story line? Haha.

Yep. I love me some Percy Jackson. :)

Written: 3/29-3/31/12
Second Person Perspective-Perseus

Good Morning, Sunshine:

Groaning, you glare at the sun as it filters in through the curtains in your room. It's a shame. On such a beautiful day, you wake up feeling like Hades came up from the depths of Hell just to give you a slight poke in the stomach with his trident. Your usually feathered hair is just slightly tousled from your constant tossing and turning in bed.

It doesn't help that you sleep naked. Or the fact that you wear your mother's folded up knee high on your wank, but that just contributes to the comforts of sleep for you.

Your hand basically molests the bed-high table on your right while it gropes through the endless amounts of sprinkled table salt for your glasses.

Damn Fates, you think crossly to yourself as a miniscule crystal burns the living holiness out of your eyeball. Hades just loves the hell out of you.

Literally.

Freshly showered, you sloppily slide yourself into your too large jeans and tighten the belt around your scrawny, pale waist. You throw on your Pac-Man t-shirt while fingering the knots out of your hair.

You know what you want.

You rush inside the gas station as soon as your beat-up jeep skids into the faded parking lines. Your dark locks flood your line of vision. With a quick flick of your head, your sight instantly clears. You swing the doors open to the Speedway gas station. Your eyes roam through the shelves of candy and condoms before settling on the sixteen ounce cans of Coors Light.

With an unmotivated attempt to keep your composure, you seemingly leap towards the alcohol. The promise land of barbiturates.

The feel of the lukewarm cans against your clammy palms sends a rush of adrenaline throughout you, stimulating your rather lax brain.

The irony of it all.

You've been stationed in the backseat of your jeep, figuratively drunk out of your mind. The three cans of Coors Light you bought are now strewn across the miniscule space you claim as your backseat floor.

It's been three hours since you started your rapid consumption. The buzz you felt after your first can was the start of a joyous time. The second-can-induced tipsiness left you laughing in the solitude of your car.

It was a beautiful moment, you recall.

After the third can, you realized how pathetic you are. You're a fucking loser.

Ah, well. I'm a bit rusty on the entire fiction-writing-sexy-characters thing. I apologize.

Review please? I appreciate it.

Thanks for taking the time to read,

Jia Marie *