This is Buford,” Leo announced.
“You name your furniture?” Frank asked.

Forget the chicken-nugget smoke screen. Percy wanted Leo to invent an anti-dream hat.

I still don't understand what a sea god would be doing in Atlanta."
Leo snorted. "What's a wine god doing in Kansas? Gods are weird.

Gods of Olympus.” Piper stared at Leo. “What happened to you?”
His hair was greased back. He had welding goggles on his forehead, a lipstick mark on his cheek, tattoos all over his arms, and a T-shirt that read HOT STUFF, BAD BOY, and TEAM LEO.
“Long story,” he said.

Percy looked at Coach Hedge and Frank. “A trap?”
“Probably,” Frank said.
“She’s not mortal,” Hedge said, sniffing the air. “Probably some kind of goat-eating, demigod-destroying fiend from Tartarus.”
“No doubt,” Percy agreed.
“Awesome.” Hedge grinned. “Let’s go.

Save yourselves!” Percy warned. “It is too late for us!”
Then he gasped and pointed to the spot where Frank was hiding. “Oh, no! Frank is turning into a crazy dolphin!”
Nothing happened.
“I said,” Percy repeated, “Frank is turning into a crazy dolphin!”
Frank stumbled out of nowhere, making a big show of grabbing his throat. “Oh, no,” he said, like he was reading from a teleprompter. “I am turning into a crazy dolphin.”
He began to change, his nose elongating into a snout, his skin becoming sleek and gray. He fell to the deck as a dolphin, his tail thumping against the boards.
The pirate crew disbanded in terror.