The Minotaur


Oh boy; this guy. Oh boy.

I thought to myself 'Best start off with something you're really familiar with'. And it's safe to say that no one is more familiar with this great big murderous cow than me. The two of us have a long history between us at this point. Ever since I killed him with his own horn, he's been a little mad at me; I don't know why. Some monsters can really hold a grudge.

Short Description:

- mythological creature; head of a bull, body of a man

- walks on two feet (most of the time)

- big, mean horns

- tough hide

- bad mouth- and nostril hygiene

- tends to come equipped in fully battle armour, but might occasionally turn up in just a pair of fine-ribbed cotton underwear (don't ask me why)

- unique (There's only one of him. Thank the Gods for that.)

I really don't know why I'm bothering to describe this guy; most of you probably already know what a Minotaur is. He's one of the more famous Greek monsters after all.

You should know, though, that he doesn't know that, and he won't feel flattered if you tell him, either. He'll just glare at you with his big, red, murderous eyes and probably follow that up with trying to kill you, all without acknowledging your compliment in the slightest. That's mainly because his brain is roughly the size of a walnut, and about half as capable of conscious thought. Compliments are way beyond his comprehension – but I should add that I make that statement without evidence, since no one has ever given him one to test it.

Not that the Minotaur would give anyone the chance, though. In his walnut brain there is only room for one single thought; and that is 'Kill thing in front of me!' – perhaps with the occasional 'Thing is Percy Jackson – kill even more!' sneaking its way in. That's what it feels like, anyway. But I digress. Trying to dive into the so called thought process of the things trying to murder me is just a good way to cope, I guess. Helps to relieve the stress while you're fighting for your life.

Now, all this does sound like I am belittling the big oaf – and I am – but this single-minded focus on killing is also what makes the Minotaur so dangerous. With most creatures, if you run into them without warning, you can at least count on one second or two of surprise on their part, and then another five as they're either judging if you're worth the trouble or sizing you up trying to find your weak spots. If, on the other hand, you happen to run into the Minotaur in a deserted alley, he'll charge at you the very second he sees you. No time for preparations, neither on his nor on your part.

Yes; this big brute is about as murderous as these monsters get. And he's got the arsenal to back it up, too: big, mean horns; awfully smelly breath; and biceps (bicepsis? bicepses?) to make Arnold jealous. I've seen him lift a full-sized car and through it like it was nothing more than a football (guess at who?). When it comes to brute strength, he'll overpower any demigod. Trust me; enough have tried, and they are not writing this book. Which is why you really. Shouldn't. Do that.

(Fight him directly; not write a book. Maybe that was confusing.)

See; as I'll illustrate further, for most of these monsters there's a trick. And the trick with this guy is; you don't have to kill him. You just have to stay alive long enough for him to kill himself.

You know the gimmick with the bull and the red cloth? Yeah. At the heart of it, the Minotaur is this single-minded animal, and you are its red cloth. Meaning that no matter if there's a tornado, a nuclear explosion or a Beyoncé concert nearby; you will always be his prime focus. That fact can be quite terrifying when he actually barrels towards you like an extremely angry freight train and you stand there with nothing but a toothpick masquerading to be a sword.

The first instinct in this situation would be to run, which, again, you most certainly don't want to do; he'll catch up. Instead consider literally any other direction other than away from him, because he is much worse with those. Try evading to the left or the right; duck under his armpits; or (as some crazy person has been reported doing) jump on his head and over him. Most of these should work, at least the first few times.

Eventually, though, even the Minotaur will catch on to that trick and try to predict where you are going to go. And as simple as the above instructions sound now, it's not always easy to keep a clear enough head in a fight with a monster; especially one as imposing as this. You are guaranteed to make some slip-ups. And at this point you might discover your pessimistic side and think 'Well, great, I may or may not have survived a few couple of seconds against this big cow, but now he is going to murder me anyway; thanks for nothing, Percy Jackson!'

Well, to come back to the red cloth part, it's all about how you use those couple of seconds. With his reckless charging, there are a lot of ways – limited only by your imagination – to turn the Minotaur's own power against him. Here's just one little recipe for you:


Step 1: Prop your toothpick up against something solid, sharp bit pointed toward the bull.

Step 2: Sprinkle some salt and pepper (or spices of your choice) on top.

Step 3: Wait for the oaf to come at you.

Step 4: Jump aside at the last moment and be sure not to bite off your tongue at the impact.


If you've followed the instructions correctly, you should now have a slight dash of near-death panic, a Minotaur-free day ahead of you, and a delicious murder-steak for dinner as a bonus.

(Not really; like all monsters the Minotaur dissolves into ashes after death, and anyway he's probably seven kinds of contagious. Just trying to be optimistic here.)

This recipe excellently showcases my second tip: use your surroundings. I know that sounds obvious, but with this guy especially it is invaluable. If where you stand happens to be, say, the edge of a cliff, the situation is instantly more favourable. All you need to do then is just take a step to the side, smile politely and wave after the bull-freight train on his way down. To keep with the vehicle analogy; this brute doesn't come with a built-in reverse, meaning that if you see anything deadly nearby, position yourself in front of it and let him do the rest. If the Minotaur gets moving, nothing will stop him, and that includes himself.

(And yes; it is also possible to kill him the conventional way, if you're really, really quick and amazing at sword fighting (and really uncreative)).

Some fun facts to close this off: the Minotaur is one of the oldest mythological creatures. Since he's also very strong, that should theoretically mean that if you kill him once, you won't have to see him again in your lifetime since he takes so long to regenerate. Notice how I used 'theoretically' there? Yeah. I've met him three times now, and every time he only seems to get bigger and meaner. So don't count on theory or your luck when dealing with these monsters; as a general rule, all three don't like demigods very much.

Did you know that he gets his name from his former master, king Minos, and the ancient Greek word for bull? I didn't, until someone pointed it out to me while I was running for my life from said Minos-bull and his monster friends. You live and you learn; sometimes simultaneously, as in this case. At least that explains why the big guy turned out the way he did. With that old ghostly tyrant for a master, I would probably develop anger issues, too.

Anyway, that concludes the first chapter. Hopefully it was pleasant to read and life-saving. Next up is probably a slightly less murderous monster – not that that is saying much.