Love Against All Odds

Percy - Getting Rid of Shit

Percy's hope dwindled at the sight of the horses' menacing teeth. Approaching the fence, he instinctively shielded his nose from the putrid odour with his shirt. A stallion, trudging through the filth, greeted him with a hostile whinny, revealing sharp, bear-like teeth.

Attempting to establish a mental connection, Percy addressed the horse. "Hi," he communicated telepathically. "I'm here to clean your stables. Wouldn't that be great?"

"Yes!" the horse responded eagerly. "Come inside! I'll eat you! Tasty half-blood!"

"But I'm Poseidon's son," Percy protested. "He created horses."

Normally, Percy's lineage garnered him preferential treatment among equestrians, but not this time.

"Yes!" the horse enthusiastically agreed. "Poseidon can come in too! We'll eat you both! Seafood!"

"Seafood!" echoed the other horses as they trudged through the field, enveloped by swarms of flies and the oppressive heat.

Initially, Percy believed he could tackle this challenge, drawing inspiration from Hercules' legendary feats. Hercules had diverted a river to cleanse the stables, so Percy had hoped to control water similarly. However, the proximity to the hostile horses posed a significant obstacle. Moreover, the river was much farther downhill than he had anticipated, nearly half a mile away. The magnitude of the manure dilemma loomed large as he tentatively began scooping it away with a rusty shovel. With a wry observation, Percy realized he had four billion shovelfuls to contend with.

As the sun began its descent, Percy knew time was not on his side. With a heavy heart, he concluded that the river represented his only chance. At least there, amidst the calming water flow, he could more effectively gather his thoughts. Resolutely, he set off downhill.

Arriving at the river's edge, Percy encountered a girl awaiting him. Clad in jeans and a green T-shirt, her long brown hair intertwined with river grass, she exuded a stern demeanour, arms crossed defiantly.

"Oh no, you don't," she declared firmly.

Percy gazed at her intently. "Are you a naiad?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course."

"But you speak English. And you're out of the water."

"What, you don't think we can act human if we want to?"

Percy had never considered it before. Feeling a tad foolish, he recalled his encounters with naiads at camp, where they typically giggled and waved from the depths of the canoe lake.

"Look," he began, "I just came to ask—"

"I know who you are," she interrupted. "And I know what you want. And the answer is no! I won't have my river used again to clean that filthy stable."

"But—"

"Oh, save it, sea boy. You ocean-god types always think you're soooo much more important than some little river, don't you? Well, let me tell you, this naiad will not be pushed around just because your daddy is Poseidon. This is a freshwater territory, mister. The last guy who asked me this favour—oh, he was way better-looking than you, by the way—he convinced me, and that was the worst mistake I've ever made! Do you know what that horse manure does to my ecosystem? Do I look like a sewage treatment plant to you? My fish will die. I'll never get the muck out of my plants. I'll be sick for years. NO THANK YOU!"

Her words struck Percy with the force of a verbal barrage, reminiscent of his mortal friend, Rachel Elizabeth Dare. He couldn't blame the naiad. He'd be furious if someone dumped four million pounds of manure in his home. Nonetheless, he persisted, "My friends are in danger."