First chapter: Percy Jackson and the Singer of Apollo by Rick Riordan

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This chapter is from a story called Percy Jackson and the Singer of Apollo by Rick Riordan. This short story is part of the Guys Read: Other Worlds by Jon Scieszka.

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DISCLAIMER: This story, the characters and everything else belong to Author Rick Riordan, writer of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series and the Heroes of Olympus series.

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Percy Jackson and the Singer of Apollo

I know what you're gonna think, what you're gonna ask. Percy Jackson, why are you hanging from a Times Square billboard without your pants on, about to fall to your death?

You can blame Apollo, god of music, archery and poetry. Also, the god of making me do stupid quests.

This particular disaster started when I brought my friend Grover some aluminum cans for his birthday. Perhaps I should mention- I'm a demigod. My dad Poseidon is Lord of the Sea, which sounds cool I guess, but mostly means my life is filled with monster attacks and annoying Greek gods that tend to pop up on the subway, or in the middle of Math class, or when I'm taking a shower (long story, don't ask).

I figured maybe I'd get a day off from the craziness, for Grover's birthday, but of course, I was wrong.

Grover, and his girlfriend Juniper, were spending the day in Prospect Heights in Brooklyn, doing nature-y stuff like dancing with the tree nymphs, or serenading the squirrels. Grover's a satyr, that's his idea of fun.

Anyway we hung out for a little while, talking and enjoying the weather- Grover was happily munching on his aluminum cans- when the nymphs started discussing what party game we should play. Grover pulled a blindfold out of his pocket and suggested “Pin the Tail on the Human,” which made me kind of nervous since I was the only human.

And then, without warning, the sun went bright and the air turned uncomfortably hot. Twenty feet away the grass hissed, and a cloud of steam whooshed up, like somebody opening a big pressing machine at a laundromat.

The steam cleared, and standing in front of us, was the god Apollo.

Now, gods didn't look like anything they were, but Apollo always seemed to go for that “I just graduated from a boy-band” look. Today he was rocking pencil thin jeans, a white muscle shirt and gilded Ray Ban sunglasses. His wavy blond hair glistened with product. When he smiled, the dryads squealed and giggled.

"Oh no," Grover said. "This can't be good."

"Percy Jackson!" Apollo beamed at me. "And, uh, his goat friend!"

"His name is Grover," I said. "And we're kind of off-duty Lord Apollo, it's Grover's birthday.”

"Happy birthday!" Apollo said. "I'm so glad you're taking the day off! That means you two have time to help me with a little problem."

Naturally, the problem was not little.

When we got to the edge of the woods, Apollo faced me. "Allow me to introduce the Khryseiai Keledones*!"

He snapped his fingers, more steam erupted from the ground, and three golden women appeared in front of us. And when I say golden, I mean they were literally, gold. Their metallic skin glittered; their sleeveless gowns were made from enough gilded fabrics to finance a bailout.

Now I'd seen living statues - automatons - before; beautiful or not they almost always tried to kill me.

"Um…" I took a step back. "What did you say these were again? Crissy--Kali--something?"

"Khryseiai Keledones," Apollo said. "Golden singers. They're my backup band."

I glanced at Grover, wondering if this was some kind of joke. Grover wasn't laughing. His mouth hung open in amazement, as if the golden ladies were the biggest, tastiest aluminum cans he had ever seen.

"They're beautiful!"

Apollo smiled. "Well, it's been a few centuries since I brought them out. Now, they only come out for special occasions."

Grover got teary eyed, "You brought them out for my birthday?"

"No, you fool; I've got a concert tonight on Mount Olympus. Everybody's going to be there! The Nine Muses are opening and I'm performing a mix of my old favorites, and some new material! It's gonna be great. You know, I'm doing okay with my solo career, but people were expecting to hear some of my classic sets with the girls! 'Daphne on My Mind,' 'Stairway to Olympus,' 'Sweet Home Atlantis'! It's gonna be awesome!"

I tried not to look nauseous. I'd heard Apollo's poetry before, and if his music was that bad, this was gonna blow harder than Aeolus the wind god.

"Great!" I said halfheartedly. "So what's the problem?"

Apollo's smile faded. "Listen." He waved to his golden singers, raising his hands like a conductor, and on cue they all sang in harmony, "LAAAA!"

It was only one chord, but it filled me with bliss. I felt like I was floating out of my shoes.

"That was amazing," I said.

"Amazing?" Apollo wrinkled his nose. "There are only three of them! Their harmonies are empty! I can't perform without the whole quartet!"

Grover was weeping with joy. "They're perfect!"

Apollo crossed his arms, "They're not perfect, Mr. Satyr. I need all four or this concert's gonna be ruined. Unfortunately, my fourth automaton went rogue this morning, I can't find her anywhere."

I looked at the three automatons. "How does a backup singer go rogue?"

"They're out of warranty," the guy explained. "Hephaestus made them back in the old days. They worked fine, but the day after their 2000-year warranty expired, naturally- wham! The fourth one goes haywire and runs off to the big city." He gestured in the general direction of Manhattan. "Of course, I tried to complain to Hephaestus but he was all like 'Well, did you buy the Protection Plus Package?' and I'm like 'I didn't want your stupid extended warranty!' And he acts as if it’s my fault that the automaton broke and he says that if I'd bought the Plus Package I'd get the dedicated service hotline that--"

"Whoa," I said. "So if you know where your automaton is, why can't you just go get her?"

"I don't have time, I've got to practice! I've got to write a set list, do sound checks. Besides, that's what you heroes are for."

"Running the gods' errands."

"Exactly!" Apollo spread his hands. "Now I assume the missing automaton is roaming the theater district looking for some place to audition. I'm sure without me around, she probably thinks she's the next Hannah Montana.

You two have to get her before she causes any problems, and hurry; the concert's tonight, and Manhattan is a large place."

Grover tried to backtrack, "So you want us to find her, while you do sound checks?"

"Take it as a favor. Not just for me, but for all those mortals in Manhattan!"

"Whoa," Grover said. "Oh no."

"What?" I said "What, oh no?"

"Percy," he said. "If the automaton starts singing in public, in the middle of afternoon rush hour--"

"She'll cause no end of havoc," Apollo said. "She might sing love songs, or a lullaby, or a patriotic war tune, and whatever the mortals hear…"

I imagined a rogue automaton bursting into song in the middle of Manhattan, putting people to sleep, making them fall in love, or urging them to fight.

"Okay, she's gotta be stopped," I said. "But why us?"

"I like you!" Apollo said. "Besides, you've faced the Sirens before, this isn't too different, just put some wax in your ears! Your friend Grover's a satyr, he's got resistance to music magic, plus he can play the lyre!"

"What lyre?" I said.

Apollo snapped his fingers, and suddenly Grover was holding the weirdest musical instrument I'd ever seen. The base was a hollowed out tortoise shell, which made me feel really bad for the tortoise. Two polished wooden arms stuck up on one side like bull horns, with a bar across the top and seven strings running the length of it: It looked like a combination of harp, banjo, and dead turtle.

"Wow!" Grover almost dropped the lyre. "I couldn't -- this is your --"

"Yep," Apollo grinned, "That's my own personal lyre. Of course, if you damage it, I'll incinerate you. But I'm sure you'll be careful, you can play the lyre, right?"

"Uh.." Grover plucked a few tones that sounded like a funeral dirge.

"Keep practicing!" Apollo said. "You'll need the magic of the lyre to help capture the automaton. Have Percy distract her while you play."

"Distract her?" I said. This quest was sounding worse and worse. I didn't see how we could capture a golden automaton, but Apollo clapped me on the shoulder like everything was settled.

"Excellent!" he said. "Meet me at the Empire State Building at sunset. One way or the other I'll persuade Hephaestus to fix her! Just don't be late, I can't keep my audience waiting!"

And the sun god and his golden back up singers disappeared in a cloud of steam.

"Happy birthday to me," Grover said, and he plucked a sour note on the lyre.

THE END

*We were unable to transcribe exactly what Rick said, so we've transcribed this with the help of a viewer.

[SOURCE: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Owvza2j8Nc ]