“Tyson thought Annabeth was just about the coolest thing since peanut butter, and he SERIOUSLY loved peanut butter.”

“Enemy giants moved towards the breech, and Tyson picked up the fallen warrior’s club. He yelled something to his fellow blacksmiths – probably ‘FOR POSEIDON!’ – but with his mouth full of peanut butter it sounded like, ‘PUH PTEH BUN.’ His brethren all grabbed hammers and chisels, yelled, ‘PEANUT BUTTER!’ and charged behind Tyson into battle.”

“Yay!' he said. 'Now we can eat peanut butter sandwiches and ride fish ponies! We can fight monsters and see Annabeth and make things go BOOM!”

“You are okay?" he asked. "Not eaten by monsters?""Not even a little bit." I showed him that I still had both arms and both legs, and Tyson clapped happily."Yay!" he said. "Now we can eat peanut butter sandwiches and ride fish ponies! We can fight monsters and see Annabeth and make things go BOOM!"I hoped he didn't mean all at the same time, but I told him absolutely, we'd have a lot of fun this summer.”

“Tyson! Thank the gods, Annabeth is hurt!""You thank the gods that she is hurt?" he asked, puzzled.”

“Is Tyson okay?" I asked.The question seemed to take my dad by surprise. He's fine. Doing much better than I expected. Though "peanut butter" is a strange battle cry."You let him fight?"Stop changing the subject! You realize what you are asking me to do? My palace will be destroyed."And Olympus might be saved."Do you have any idea how long I've worked on remodeling this palace? The game room alone took six hundred years."Dad—"Very well! It shall be as you say. But my son, pray this works."I am praying. I'm talking to you, right?"Oh . . . yes. Good point.”

“Okay," Annabeth said. "What exactly do you smell?""Something bad," Tyson answered."Great," Annabeth grumbled. "That clears it up.”