The Gods Visit Camp

By Me The Awesome

Chapter Thirteen

Third Person's POV (Point Of View)

It was well after 11:00 pm. After the gods magically cleaned up all the dance materials, a bleary eyed Chiron once again made each of the gods write their names on a piece of paper and tossed them into the campfire. This time, the paper jumped out rather quickly.

"Artemis."

She looked surprised. "Give us the night to decide," she told the camp. "I'm not exactly sure what to plan yet."

All they knew was that the guys at the camp were in for a lot of trouble.

Later (Third Person's POV)

Hermes' children had decided to 'honour' him by giving him the floor to sleep on. Naturally, he had retaliated by magicking away their bunkbeds (temporarily, of course) and giving himself a comfy king-sized bed. He'd hoped for a good sleep. After all, he hadn't had one in months, what with all the mail going about 24/7. This hope was in vain. What had he expected? That his kids would behave themselves for once because a powerful god of Olympus was in their cabin? Yeah, something like that. But no. They were acting as immature as ever. Hermes supposed that he only had himself to blame for passing on this particular personality trait.

After the demigods saw the enormous bed their dad had conjured up, they immediately took advantage of the rare opportunity, and leapt onto the bed - all ten of them - at once, with his youngest kids, Dahey and Swithinn, landing on Hermes.

"Oof!" Hermes (and the bed) groaned under all the weight.

"Yo, dad," Travis said. "This is one awesome bed."

"Totally," Connor agreed. "If Chiron agreed to buy these in place of our bunkbeds..."

"He doesn't need to." Chris said. "Dad, where did you get this? I have to go steal me one of these."

"I, uh, stole it from this hotel in France."

Sometimes he wondered if he was a bad influence for his kids. Or maybe it was the other way around.

(Later)

Hermes couldn't sleep. Obviously he tried to, but you try to sleep with ten naturally hyperactive kids running around playing tag, singing mock opera, and trying to give each other swirlies. Sure, it was slightly amusing at first: seeing Travis giving himself a wedgie, filming Chris proposing to a rock and leaving a videotape copy outside the Ares Cabin, Connor trying to eat a jar of Brussels sprouts (who knew some people collected jars of mouldy pickled veggies under their bunkbed?).

But it was already midnight, and the demigods were still energetic as ever.

He wondered whether all half-bloods were like that, or it was just his own bad luck.

After a while, the older kids finally got the younger ones to go to bed (probably didn't want them interfering with whatever nasty and highly inappropriate game they were about to play) with many lavish bribes and promises of sugary candy and caffeinated drinks.

But what came next was not expected. Connor and Travis got out of the Cabin and returned a few minutes later, their arms drooping with the effort of carrying about a dozen pies each.

"What the –" Hermes started to say, but quickly shut up, pretending to be asleep, so his kids wouldn't try to drag him into what they were planning.

Fortunately, they didn't hear. Unfortunately, the activity they had in mind was a pie-eating contest, and the results were just plain awful.

Chris, who was allergic to gluten, was the referee, and shouted, "On your marks… LET THE PIE EATING BEGIN!"
Immediately Travis and Connor planted their faces into the pies in front of them.

Some of the others were slightly more hygienic and opted to use their hands instead.

After finishing a whole pie, Travis moaned and clutched at his stomach.

"Lame!" Chris declared.

Connor followed his twin's example soon after.

"Absolutely repulsive!" Chris insulted.

The twins were too sick to fire back.

Seven pies and three vomits later, only one contestant was remaining. She had eaten three pies and was still going strong.

"Jayson, are you sure that's… um, normal?" Hermes asked, concerned. See, he wasn't that bad of a father. He stepped in when his kids went a bit too far. Like eating a bazillion pies, for instance.

"Don't worry, dad," Chris assured him. "She won't explode. Jay has a bottomless pit deeper than Tartarus for a stomach."

"Nice to know," Hermes gulped. He should really visit his kids more often. He hadn't even known that Jayson existed until he'd come to camp.

At about two in the morning, Hermes finally decided to go to sleep, regardless of the consequences that would probably come with leaving a group of wired teenagers unsupervised.

Apparently, his kids thought otherwise, and somehow thought it was a good idea to splash a bucket of ice water on him every half hour, just for the fun of it.

Hermes groaned. Hopefully, whatever Artemis was planning to do didn't require any amount of energy or physical activity.

Of course, it did.

One of my readers wanted (long ago) to read about how Hermes deals with his crazy kids in his cabin, so here you are! I know, not very good, but I just wanted to publish a chapter soon, because I know I haven't in a while (blame school and random extra-curricular stuff!).