“God alert!" Blackjack yelled. "It's the wine dude!Mr. D sighed in exasperation. "The next person, or horse, who calls me the 'wine dude' will end up in a bottle of Merlot!”

“Did someone just call me the wine dude?” he asked in a lazy drawl. “It’s Bacchus, please. Or Mr. Bacchus. Or Lord Bacchus. Or, sometimes, Oh-My-Gods-Please-Don’t-Kill-Me, Lord Bacchus.”

“You're Dionysus," I said. "The god of wine."Mr. D rolled his eyes. "What do they say these days, Grover? Do the children say 'Well duh!'?"Y-yes, Mr. D."Then, well, duh! Percy Jackson. Did you think I was Aphrodite, perhaps?" You're a god."Yes, child."A god. You.”

“And, whoa!" He turned to Mr.D. "Your the wine dude? No way!"Mr.D turned hi eyes away from me and gave Nico a look of loathing. "The wine dude?""Dionysus, right? Oh, wow! I've got your figurine!""My figurine.""In my game, Mythomagic. And holofoil card, too! And even though you've only got like five hundred attack points and everybody thinks your the lamest god card, I totally think your powers are sweet!""Ah." Mr.D seemed truly perplexed, which probably saved my life. "Well, that's...gratifying.”

“Whoa ,zombie dude”

“And there, shimmering in the Mist right next to us, was the last person I wanted to see: 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?”

“Good luck, boss. Don't let'em turn you into horse meat! (Blackjack)”