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Mark my words, nothing smells worse than burned scorpion.

Rick Riordan

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Rick Riordan
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: June 5
Author
Novelist
Teacher
Writer
Military City
USA
Richard Russell Riordan
Jr.
Richard Russell Riordan Jr
Burned
Smell
Worse
Mark
Words
Nothing
Scorpion
Scorpions
Smells

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Poseidon held out his arms and gave me a hug. I realized, a little embarrassed, that I'd never actually hugged my dad before. He was warm—like a regular human—and he smelled of a salty beach and fresh sea air.
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All roads lead there child. You should know that. Detention?
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Leo: Rainbows. Very macho. Annabeth: Butch is our best equestrian, he gets along great with the pegasi. Leo: Rainbows, ponies... Butch: I'm gonna toss you off this chariot.
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I don’t leave her speechless very often. I have to enjoy those rare moments.
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Just remember if we get caught, you're deaf and I don't speak English.
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Annabeth didn’t want to sleep, but her body betrayed her. Her eyelids turned to lead. “Percy, wake me for second watch. Don’t be a hero.” He gave her that smirk she’d come to love. “Who, me?” He kissed her, his lips parched and feverishly warm. “Sleep.
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Great. I've made a friend.
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Never bet against a cat.
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After all the dangerous adventures I'd had, I couldn't die like this. Sadie would be devastated. Then, once she got over her grief, she'd track down my soul in the Egyptian afterlife and tease me mercilessly for how stupid I'd been.
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Young people don't always do what they're told, but if they can pull it off and do something wonderful, sometimes they escape punishment.
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It's first owner...well, things didn't turn out too well for her. Her name was Helena.' Piper let that sink in. Wait, you mean the Helena? Helena of Troy?' Annabeth nodded. And it's just sitting in your toolshed?
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He scowled at Jason. And please, I don't like being touched. Don't ever grab me again.
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Mr. D, wearing his leopard-skin jogging suit and rummaging through the refrigerator. He looked up lazily. Do you mind? Where's Chiron! I shouted. How rude. Mr. D took a swig from a jug of grape juice. Is that how you say hello? Hello, I amended. We're about to die! Where's Chiron?
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I have to be careful. My readers are very detail-oriented, and if I make a mistake they'll call me on it.
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Percy yelled. What's going- Gah! Shrimpzilla!
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I should’ve been very cross with Anubis. Kissing me without permission—the nerve!
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Monkey bars, Annabeth said. I'm great at these. She leaped onto to the first rung and started swinging her way across. She was scared of tiny spiders, but not of plummeting to her death from a set of monkey bars. Go figure.
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Bessie?” I looked down at the bull serpent. “But… he’s too cute. He couldn’t destroy the world.” -Percy Jackson
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They're Lares. House gods. House gods, Percy said. Like...smaller than real gods, but larger than apartment gods?
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I could have killed you.” “Or I could have killed you,” Percy said. Jason shrugged. “If there’d been an ocean in Kansas, maybe.” “I don’t need an ocean—” “Boys,” Annabeth interrupted, “I’m sure you both would’ve been wonderful at killing each other. But right now, you need some rest.” Food first,” Percy said. “Please?
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