“Doesn't miss many meals, does he?" Zeus muttered. "Tyson, for your bravery in the war, and for leading the Cyclopes, you are appointed a general I. The armies of Olympus. You shall henceforth lead you breathren into war whenever required by the gods. And you shall have a new...um...what kind of weapon would you like? A sword? An axe?""Stick!" Tyson said, showing his broken club."Very well," Zeus said. "We will grant you a new, er, stick. The best stick that may be found.""Hooray!”

“The Council agrees," Zeus said. "Percy Jackson, you will have one gift from the gods."I hesitated. "Any gift?"Zeus nodded grimly. "I know what you will ask. The greatest gift of all. Yes, if you want it, it shall be yours. The gods have not bestowed this gift on a mortal hero in many centuries, but, Perseus Jackson-if you wish it-you shall be made a god. Immortal. Undying. You shall serve as your father's lieutenant for all time."I stared at him, stunned. "Um...a god?"Zeus rolled his eyes. "A dimwitted god, apparently. But yes. With the consensus of the entire Council, I can make you immortal. Then I will have to put up with you forever.""Hmm," Ares mused. "That means I can smash him to a pulp as often as I want, and he'll just keep coming back for more. I like this idea.”

“You have no idea about presents or what they mean. The lastpresent you gave me was a stick.”“You wanted a weapon.”“It was a stick.”“It had a bow on it.”“It was a stick.”“I thought you liked the stick. You laughed.”

“I need a weapon,” Valkyrie muttered.“You’re an Elemental with a Necromancer ring, trained ina variety of martial arts by some of the best fighters in the world,” Skulduggery pointed out. “I’m fairly certain that makes you a weapon.”“I mean a weapon you hold. You have a gun, Tanith has a sword... I want a stick.”“I’ll buy you a stick for Christmas.”

“Tanith has a sword.' said Valkyrie. 'I want a stick.''I'll get you a stick for Christmas”

“You take up for your buddies, no matter what they do. When you're a gang, you stick up for the members. If you don't stick up for them, stick together, make like brothers, it isn't a gang anymore. It's a pack. A snarling, distrustful, bickering park like the Socs in their social clubs or the street gangs in New York or the wolves in the timber.”