Chapter 36.7: The Terrible Banjo Prank (or Apollo Kills a Lot of Banjos)

Percy had seen a lot of things in his life—monsters, gods, the literal end of the world—but this? This was something special.

It all started a few days after his now-infamous story about Apollo's irrational, burning hatred for banjos. He should have known something was up when Travis and Connor Stoll rolled into camp with a massive wooden crate on wheels, their grins way too smug to be anything good.

Percy had been casually checking on Camp when he spotted them, the crate rattling suspiciously as they hauled it toward the Apollo cabin. The moment he saw what was inside—a horde of brand-new, shiny banjos stacked neatly in rows—he turned right back around and minded his own business.

Nope. Not getting involved. Not his problem.

…Okay, technically he was getting involved, because he immediately reached into his pocket, pulled out his solar recorder, and hit record.

He snickered quietly to himself as he followed at a safe distance, watching as Travis and Connor delivered the crate right to the Apollo cabin. The moment their business was done, the Stolls left whistling way too innocently, hands full of newly earned drachmas.

Percy could have warned the Apollo cabin. He could have stopped this from happening.

But, honestly?

He was way too curious to see how this would play out.

So, instead, he perched himself in a good hiding spot, fully prepared for whatever chaos was about to unfold.

It didn't take long.

From his spot, he saw the Apollo kids huddled together, whispering conspiratorially as they pulled out their iris message device to contact their father.

Percy bit back a grin. Oh, this is gonna be good.

He couldn't hear exactly what was said, but given their excited expressions and the way some of them kept glancing at the crate, he had a pretty solid guess.

Then they waited.

And Camp Half-Blood, being Camp Half-Blood, had already figured out something was going on. By the time Apollo's presence was requested, a sizeable group of demigods had gathered out of sight, peeking around trees and behind cabins, all waiting for the show to start.

And oh boy, did it start.

Apollo arrived in a dramatic burst of golden light, sunglasses perched on his nose, looking effortlessly cool as always. His usual smirk was in place as he looked at his kids expectantly.

"Alright, my beautiful, talented, favorite children," he said, arms wide. "You said you had a surprise for me?"

The Apollo cabin beamed.

With one fluid motion, they flipped open the crate.

Inside, a mountain of banjos gleamed under the sunlight.

Apollo froze.

For a long, painful second, there was absolute silence.

Then his sunglasses slid down his nose, revealing wide, horrified eyes.

One of the braver Apollo kids, Austin, held up a banjo, strummed it once, and cheerfully declared, "We all learned how to play, Dad! Just for you!"

That was the moment everything went to hell.

The temperature spiked instantly.

There was no buildup, no warning. One second, everything was normal, and the next—

BOOM.

A shockwave of pure solar fire exploded outward, sending banjos flying into the air like some kind of bizarre musical meteor shower.

The Apollo kids screamed and scattered, barely dodging the flaming instruments raining down around them. Some of the bystanders dove for cover, while others, like Percy, just stood there in horrified awe.

"WHAT IS THIS?!" Apollo bellowed, his voice shaking the ground. His aura flared so brightly that even his own kids had to shield their eyes. "BANJOS?! YOU GOT ME—BANJOS?"

Will Solace barely managed to dodge a flaming chunk of banjo debris. "It was supposed to be funny!" he yelled, his voice cracking slightly.

"THERE IS NOTHING FUNNY ABOUT BANJOS!" Apollo roared, summoning even more solar fire into his hands. "EVERY LAST ONE MUST DIE!"

Percy watched, mouth slightly open, as Apollo went berserk.

Banjos were smashed, disintegrated, vaporized—one by one, obliterated with extreme prejudice.

At one point, a banjo tried to make a break for it—okay, no, obviously it didn't, but the way it rolled downhill after being knocked out of someone's hands sure made it look like it was running for its life.

Apollo turned, glared at it, and sniped it out of existence with a pinpoint laser of solar energy.

Percy winced. Damn. That was actually kind of impressive.

The Apollo kids had long since abandoned their prank and were now in full survival mode, dodging, ducking, and praying to literally any god who wasn't their dad.

Meanwhile, Apollo was still cursing violently in Ancient Greek, muttering something that definitely sounded like a divine kill order.

And then—just to make extra sure—he gathered up all the remains of the incinerated banjos, waved his hand over them with a final muttered curse, and tossed them straight into Tartarus.

Percy blinked.

"Again?" he muttered to himself.

It was at that point he realized…

Oh gods.

He had just witnessed the creation of Banjo Monster 2.0.

…Maybe even 3.0.

As Apollo huffed, dusted off his now slightly-singed toga, and stormed off without another word, Percy took a final glance at the scorched battlefield that used to be the Apollo cabin's front yard.

The kids were still standing there, looking shell-shocked. Will in particular was staring blankly at the massive crater in the ground where the crate of banjos had once been.

Slowly, Percy turned off his solar recorder.

Then, just as slowly, he walked away, shaking his head.

As he passed the Stoll brothers, he muttered, "Y'know, if that thing ever does crawl out of Tartarus, I am blaming you two."

Travis, who was still wheezing from laughter, just grinned. "Worth it."