Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson

Authors Notes: I will try for longer chapters, just "breaking in". Thinking of a totally original story.... or I think it is at least.

For the smallest moment, my life flashed before me. I know I'm doing a clichee here but... It really did. I saw my Mother, a large belt in her hand, swinging wildly at me. In her free hand she held a bottle Vodka. I saw a large sign above my head, a white mask laughing (I guess Momus had so few children he had to claim them) hystericly. Then I saw my only friend, Jack, staring out at me, insulting me.

I came to, but time seems to slow down. The Hell Hound flew at me, its jaws wide open. Drool flew out of his mouth, glittering lightly from the small light bulb over head. My hand was sailing to my side, trying to reach the Celestial Bronze dagger I had. When I put it in that leg sheath, I hadn't thought about if I was on the john and I got ambushed.

Time sped up now, catching up it seems. My hand was on the dagger hilt, trying in vain to pull it out.

Out of nowhere, came a large bronze looking spear. Like literally, the shaft was bronze. It was going down on the Hell Hound, but in time?

He realized time had slowed again. He felt a odd peace, knowing the end was nigh (Pardon the clichee, again).

Or was it? The spear seemed to be going faster, and the Hell Hound slower. He almost was... moving backwards. He was!

Someone had it tail, and he must of been really strong. I mean, the Hell Hound barely fit the bathroom, let alone the stall. Time sped up again, and I felt a hot trickle on my pants.

I had wet myself! Holy Hades! As I thought about that, I saw some dark black hair and... that army Desert camo shirt! Jack! He had the Hell Hound and he was killing it! Who has the spear though?

Just then, the spear went right through the Hell Hound. You see, a Hell Hound is a monster and monsters never die, just do some hunky junky in Hades then come back. So, I might run into this Hell Hound again. Oh yeah, did I mention they turn into this sand stuff? And there blood is hard to get off of cloths.

Poof! And the Hell Hound was gone, a pile of kiddy litter.

Oh, the irony. Brushed with death, and all I can think about is peeing myself infront of Jack, a 170 pound giant. He was large, not fat but muscle. Only he could pull a Hell

Hound back. Probably saw it as some huge dog.... But who had the spear?