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Colorado breweries we've visited in the rest of the state: 2020 update

One more roundup before we leave, alas. Regions are still super approximate. I updated some previous rankings as well.
Tallies: 137 in the Denver metro; 66 in the rest of the Front Range; 33 in the rest of the state. We've visited a total of 236 breweries, cideries, and meaderies in Colorado.

The Rest of the Front Range

The Rest of Colorado (South, West, Central)

Current category tally: 33
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[ANNOUNCEMENT] Earl Sweatshirt 2019 - FIRE IT UP! Tour Dates and Venues

FT. BBYMUTHA, NA-KEL SMITH, LIV.E, MIKE & BLACK NOI$E
Presale: Thursday, January 30th, 2019 at 10 AM Local
Onsale: Friday, February 1st, 2019 at 10 AM Local
Venues and Dates listed below:
03/23 New Orleans, LA - BUKU Music + Art Project
03/25 Charlotte, NC - The Underground at the Fillmore Charlotte
03/26 Silver Spring, MD - The Fillmore Silver Spring
03/28 Baltimore, MD - Baltimore Soundstage
03/29 Philadelphia, PA - Theatre of Living Arts
03/30 New York, NY - Irving Plaza
03/31 Providence, RI - Fête Music Hall
04/02 Boston, MA - Paradise Rock Club
04/04 Montreal, Quebec - Corona Theatre
04/05 Toronto, Ontario - The Phoenix Concert Theatre
04/07 Detroit, MI - Saint Andrews Hall
04/09 Minneapolis, MN - Cabooze
04/10 Lawrence, KS - The Granada
04/11 Denver, CO - Cervantes Masterpiece
04/14 Seattle, WA - The Showbox
04/15 Vancouver, British Columbia - The Commodore Ballroom
04/16 Portland OR - Crystal Ballroom
04/18 Sacramento, CA - Ace of Spades
04/19 San Francisco, CA - Regency Ballroom
04/20 Santa Cruz, CA - The Catalyst
04/21 San Luis Obispo, CA - Fremont Theater
04/23 Pomona, CA - The Glass House
04/24 Los Angeles, CA - The Novo
04/26 Las Vegas, NV - Vinyl - Hard Rock Hotel & Casino Las Vegas
04/27 San Diego, CA - SOMA
04/28 Phoenix, AZ - Club Red
05/01 Austin, TX - Emo’s
05/02 Dallas, TX - Canton Hall
05/04 Houston, TX - Warehouse Live
05/05 Birmingham, AL - Saturn
05/06 Atlanta, GA - The Masquerade
06/07 London, England - Meridian Water (Field Day Festival 2019)
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Fort Collins setlist ans thoughts

--------------ENCORE-----------
The thing I realized when I was there is that Jimmy tours not for the megafan, but also for those now 35 year olds who are like "I LOVED THE MIDDLE!" There was so much energy for the old songs and not much for the new ones.
Three songs from Clarity was nice, I'd never seen For Me This is Heaven live. They completely ignored Invented and Damage, which is fine I guess. Really wish they'd play a different Integrity Blues song, but the jamming part before the last chorus is pretty awesome, better than I'd remembered.
The energy on Futures was just SOOO good. Jim was hitting all of the high notes on Futures, Work, Big Casino that sometimes he'll sing a lower melody on.
The best song was Criminal Energy. That song rocks live so hard.
I just love this band, it was great, but only playing 5 songs from the new album left me a bit disappointed (and no new debuts). But I can't be mad; they are all so uber-talented and are an amazing show to see live.
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DEMOLITION DAYS, Part 47

continuing
As I was picking myself up off the shooter’s shack floor, I glanced over to the TV.
The ballplayers were all wandering around the field, looking skyward. Evidently, there was this hellacious explosion…even the television sports commentators were speculating as to what happened.
Whoops.
I looked out into the quarry. The wall that I had charged had receded some 75 feet.
There was rather a large amount of shattered, blasted dolomitic limestone now in the quarry. Enough, I found out later, for a full month’s worth of orders.
We never did find the blasting mats. I think they sort of evaporated.
Luckily, the quarry is essentially an open amphitheater in plan view; basically a big hole in the ground with vertical limestone walls. The shockwave of the blast that didn’t spend itself shattering the limestone into which it was housed, blew out laterally, hit the opposite quarry wall, rebounded, and then dispersed, rather energetically, vertically upward.
I set off car alarms for a 20 block radius.
There were no broken home windows, as the lion’s share of the shock wave was redirected upward.
Good thing there were no low flying zeppelins or dirigibles in the area...
I waited the requisite time to allow for any loafers. There were none, so I jumped into the nearest wheel loader and began clearing the quarry floor. Hell, I had to so I could open the front gate.
As I was clearing the floor, making pile number eight of the loose rock I had liberated, I heard the characteristic whoop-whoop of emergency vehicles.
I parked the wheel loader, opened the front gate, and raised the green flag. That was enough blasting for one day.
A few minutes later, three police cars zoom into the site. Two were local city cops, and one was a state trooper.
“Hi, guys!” I waved, “Nice day, innit?”
“Doctor Rock! We should have known.” One of the local boys groaned.
“Hey, I did call you beforehand, as per procedure,” I said.
Polack the cop walks up, just knowing I was responsible. “Yeah, but we didn’t figure on you terrorizing the entire city.”
“Polack! How goes it?” I asked.
The other local cop and the state trooper look to Polack, “You know this maniac?”
“Oh, hell yeah. For years. Don’t worry, the good doctor is mostly harmless.” He chuckles.
“Damn. OK. I guess everything’s OK. Just no more shooting today, please, Doctor. It’s going to take hours to calm everyone down.” He laments.
“Yes, sir. I’m done for the day.” I reply, snickering slightly.
The one local and state trooper depart, shaking their heads in amazement. This left Polack to follow me over to the shooter’s shack to mooch a cigar and whatever else he can find.
“Jesus Hula-Dancing Christ, Rock. What the hell was that? I was all the way out in Whitewatosa and heard you.” He asks as he sneakily snakes a smoke out of my case.
“Just some common chemicals in the proper proportions.” I snicker.
“Which were?” he asks.
I go in the back of the shed and toss him an empty container of one of the parts of the binaries I used. He catches it, reads the label, and drops it like a live grenade.
“Binaries? Fuck! Like what you used at the tower?” he asks.
“Yep. I used just a little more.” I reply.
“Little more? Damn, as I said, we’ve been briefed on the stuff. This shit’s nasty.” He shakes his head.
“Yeah. Fun, too.” I reply.
Polack grabs a Sprechler’s Cream Soda out of the fridge as I opt for a cold Cream Ale and shot of potato juice. Hell, I was done for the day, so…
We sit around and have a chat, just shooting the shit, as it were. Manly topics, so the conversation eventually steered over to guns.
“Hey!” Polack remembers, “That’s right! You fucking owe me. Let me borrow that fucking cannon you carry. I want to show the chief a thing or two.”
“Yeah, that’s right”, I agree, “When do you need it?”
“This Friday, after shift. It’s the monthly qualifiers for us.” He notes.
“Are pyromaniacs allowed in?” I ask.
“To observe? Sure. To shoot? Nope. Insurance regulations.” He says.
“What time?” I continue.
“1800 hours.” He tells me.
“I’ll be there. I’ll bring my gun and an assortment of loads. Hey, this could be fun!” I evilly smile.
“Doctor. You’re doing that thing again. You’re grinnin’ like a shithouse rat. You know how much that scares me. Stop it.” He pleads.
“No worries. Friday at 1800 hours.” I reply, grinning.
Polack slurps down his Sprechlers, snitches another stogie, and squeals out of the quarry in a cloud of dense dolomitic dust.
I arrive back at our flat, after stopping for two frozen custard Turtle Sundaes, to go. I give one to an appreciative wife and I ask her about her day.
“Oh, went shopping with Oma. Got the cutest shoes, and a new purse, and…oh well, never mind. You’ll see.”
Between bites of Turtle Sundae, she asks how my day went.
“Oh, my dear. I had a real blast.” I replied, not lying in the least.
Monday, after my first classes, I’m back in the faculty lounge, savoring a Greenland Coffee.
There was the usual instructor chatter when Dean Vermiculari walks in.
“Good morning, Dean!” I say. “Care for a sit-down and a coffee?”
“Good morning, Doctor Rock. Yes, please to both.” He replies.
I fix us both a fresh Greenland Coffee and return to our table. I hand him one and sit down to savor my soupçon.
“How was your weekend?” I ask the Dean of the College.
“Oh, very nice. Had a fine time catching some perch and crappie out on Lake Genever. I see you had a victorious weekend as well. Twice.” He smiles.
“Twice?” I asked.
“Well, your handling of the tower demolition made all the papers. Very, very well done, Doctor. I congratulate you.” He smiles.
“Thank you, Dean. That means a lot. Just doing what I can with what I’ve got. But twice?” I replied.
“It wasn’t front-page news, but I saw there was some, well, let us just say, ‘energetic activity’ out at the Silurian reef limestone quarry yesterday.” He grinned.
“Oh, yes. I had a job to do and well, as I always say: ‘Nothing succeeds like excess.” I smile back.
“Quite. This beverage you’ve created is really rather extraordinary, Doctor. Again, I thank you.” He tips his mug my direction in the age-old Midwestern salute.
“It’s a little recipe I picked up on my last expedition to the northlands. I grew rather fond of the concoction.” I replied.
“Ah, I see. Marvelous.” He smiles.
“Thank you, Dean. High praise indeed.” I reply.
“Which leads me to…ah, Doctor Rock. I have another favor to impose upon you.” He says, all serious.
“Yes, Dean? How can I be of service?” I ask.
“We, as you no doubt know, have many, many fine extractive mineral company connections. We actually receive quite a large amount of funding and endowments from them. They recruit here extensively for our young geoscientists. Now, since Dr. Pataariki has left for industry himself, I would like to appoint you as the College of Natural Sciences corporate liaison.” He explains.
“Indeed?” I replied, too stunned for words for once.
“Yes, indeed.” He continues, “It will require travel, mostly domestic, and delivering symposia at various companies on differing extractive geological subjects. You will also serve as host and university coordinator when they are present on recruiting tours. There will, of course, be additional remuneration to accompany the added responsibilities.”
I slurped my coffee, thinking furiously.
“Could I please first discuss it with my wife before I answer?” I ask.
“Oh, Doctor. Of course, of course. Take your time. I will not require a reply until… tomorrow.” He smiles, finishes his coffee, thanks me again, and toddles out.
“Yow, Es!” I exclaim, “This is one hell of an opportunity. It’s never before been offered to a junior professor. This will cement my tenure-track. It’s going to be a bitch with time, though. What do you think I should do?”
“Well, Rock, honey, I think you should do…” Es begins.
“No! None of that ‘do what you think is best’ stuff. I want your own thoughts, just like when I decided to go after my doctorate.” I explained.
“OK, then.” Esme looks all serious like she’s going to deliver a bipartisan political speech.
“Yes.” She says, firmly
“That’s it?” I ask.
“Yep. You asked I answered. We’ll make it work. We always do. You can’t let the Dean down. You will accept tomorrow without fear or qualms of your wife’s hesitations, of which I harbor none.” Esme proclaims.
“Did I ever tell you of the myriad reasons I love you so?” I ask.
The next morning I meet with Dean Vermiculari. He’s pleased that I accept and hands over to me the charter. Then the lists of company representatives, their contact information, and some other secret stuff that I can’t divulge right yet.
A raft of oil companies will be coming in the late spring semester, so I need to contact each and every one to solidify dates, times and positions for which they’re recruiting. But that’s for then, I have something more proximal for now.
I have a Friday appointment with Polack the cop at the town police shooting range.
I arrive spot on time with my Casull .454 Magnum pistol, in its carry bag, along with a small duffel crammed with Pyrodex, Tannerite, and selection of specialty loads I had Herman the German, the inveterate gunsmith, create.
Herman the German, his actual sobriquet, was this incredible gunsmith, craftsman, and all-around artillery specialist. Have any sort of problem with a rifle, shotgun, or pistol? See Herman. Gun holding too high? See Herman. Barrel warped? See Herman. Need solid gold projectiles for a certain one-off job? See Herman.
Herman the German can sort it out.
Just never ask him: “How?”
“Ach! I’ve lived so long to learn, and you want it free? I’ll fix it, you pay, but I am only one knowing how!”
Herman was a cranky old Kraut, and has lived here for as long as anyone can remember. Even my Grandfather had deferred to Herman when he had some particularly delicate machining operation that need special attention and was unique.
As far as anyone knew, Herman had no family, but was never at a loss for friends. He was one of the most popular, and well known, but still oddly really unknown, kind of mysterious, old bastards in the entire community.
Herman the German liked me because I could obtain for him certain high-energy things he couldn’t. All were entirely legal, but some were sort of out there in the gray zone.
He also liked that I was educated, as he held education in the highest esteem. He also liked that I was of German extraction myself.
I often made it a point to drop by with odd and unusual high-octane potables while never expecting anything in return other than a story or a shared cigar.
Herman created some special loads for my .454 Magnum, which he prized.
“I like your gun, Doctor Rock, it is so big! I can still see well enough to build things for it.” He told me one day over cheroots and Schnapps.
Herman was a character to be certain. It must have been the pixie in him to dream up some of the specialty rounds he created for me to share with the local constabulary.
He lived out in the county by himself in an old farmhouse. He had a full machine shop in his basement, complete with forge, metal handling equipment, and a firing test range.
He handed back my .454, rather solemnly.
“Doctor, I am afraid to say I couldn’t test all the special rounds I’ve created for you. I need to patch the hole in the cinder blocks in the downstairs range. Your gun punched right through the back…” he apologized.
Now, Herman does all sorts of work on the local’s deer rifles, the police’s ordinance and has even worked some with the Baja Canada National Guard. Some of the little novelties he’s dreamed up for me are the first to escape his homemade basement test range.
I felt oddly honored.
After proving who I was to the nice range officer, I looked around trying to find Polack.
“It’s 1550. Where the hell is Polack? I wondered.
“Rock! Over here.” Polack calls to me.
He motions me outside to the police department’s tactical outdoor range. I had thought all along he was referring to the indoors police target range. This might pose some problems.
The tactical range was a series of clapboard shacks, all setup and designed to represent some downtrodden urban inter-city landscape. There were a couple of junked cars, broken sidewalks, storefronts, houses, bus stops…in short, all things necessary to replicate the seediest sections of a settlement where malefactors live and breed.
The cops all run around this range, shooting at bad guy pop-up cut-outs and avoid the not-bad-guy pop-up cut-outs. They’ve got music blaring, firecrackers going off, all trying to re-create a shady deeply urban environment. Points are awarded by the accuracy of fire on the run, time to maneuver the course, and the ability of not gunning down innocent bystanders.
It is not the best place to test a .454 Cusall. This hand cannon recoils like a fundamentalist Christian being solicited for donations to Anton LaVey, shoots flames and incandescent gasses like Smaug after a hard night of drinking and a stop at the Taco Bell buffet, is louder than a dime-store Karen demanding to see a Manager, and more powerful than a Ghost Pepper suppository.
To quote Joe Piscopo: “It shoots through schools.” Especially faux-schools made of plywood.
A .32 or .38 cop special is the correct weapon here; even a 9mm is a little heavy. Enough power to make a serious dent, easy on control, light on the recoil…a good tactical weapon.
But, nothing succeeds like excess.
Polack’s Chief is running around, capping off his ‘big ol’ .44 Magnum, and making the valley echo. He punches considerable holes in the pop-up cut-outs, but has such a hard time handling the recoil, his score is barely passable.
Polack runs his test with his standard 9mm sidearm and qualifies easily. However, he’s nowhere near done with his Chief yet.
I suggest to Polack we have a shoot-off. And since a .44 Magnum bullet ‘is so close to a .454 Magnum’, which it isn’t…the .454 Casull generates nearly 85% more recoil energy than the .44 Magnum; that we’d need something other than holes punched in plywood to judge the efficacy of each.
We are literally just down the road from Max Yazzer’s farm and market. They’re the place you go for your Halloween jack-o-lantern. However, now, he has a surplus of melons.
I think you can see where this is headed…
I borrow Polack’s personal conveyance and run down to Max’s farm. I return with a trunk-load of elderly, overripe, cheap as chips, melons. Watermelons, Honeydews, Musks, and Casabas.
We place them in strategic areas on the course, five for the Chief to find, and five for Polack.
A .44 vs. a .454 melon-wise results in pretty much the same sort of mess: high-velocity fruit spatter. Although, the Chief was very impressed by the report of the .454. So, after running the tactical-melon course, clear demarcation of a winner was elusive.
OK, OK, clever dicks. How about this? A standing shoot-off? We’ll set up 3 melons each at 30, 20, and 10 yards. Beginning at 30 yards, your time will be until you take out all three melons. But, they’re not going to be in a straight line, we’re going to make them somewhat camouflaged. You will stand in one small demarcated area, hunt those miscreant melons, and bring them to justice. Fastest time and greatest display wins, as determined by the Police Peanut Gallery.
Polack and the Chief agree.
The Chief goes first and dispatches the melons, with a fair amount of spatter, in 15.3 seconds.
Not bad.
Polack is next. He wipes out all the melons and creates some thoroughly impressive displays with Herman’s ‘special’ rounds. Normal ballistics for the .454 are, for a 250 grain (16 g) bullet, a muzzle velocity of over 2,400 feet per second, developing up to 2,800 ft-lb of energy.
Herman’s hot loads are double that.
Polack wins the day on impressive high-velocity melon distribution, but misses, so close, with a time of 17.0 seconds.
Recoil’s a bitch.
Then there are Herman’s ‘specialties’.
The Chief is duly impressed and even comments that his ears are ringing even with the ear protectors. He asks to inspect the weapon. He is even more than duly impressed.
Polack knows what’s up and asks the Chief if he’d like to give a whirl.
Of course, the Chief can’t back down.
Polack loads the .454 with 5 of Herman’s specialties: hollow-point rounds loaded hot, compressed, and tipped with alkaline earth metals, like metallic sodium and metallic potassium…
We set up the nastiest, glorpiest, just barely-holding-together, overripe, laced with Tannerite (an impact-actuated low-explosive) watermelon at the ‘Concealed Carry’ distance of 5 meters.
We slowly fade back into the distance to avoid the inevitable ‘Gallagher reaction’.
The Chief fires one, and just nicks the top of the melon. Don’t laugh, with the type of recoil and heft of the sidearm, and tensing up in anticipation, it’s easy to be off the mark initially.
The second round impacts dead-center. Now, alkaline earth metals and water don’t get along really well. In fact, their relationship is explosive. Especially explosive when delivered at 2,900 feet per second.
The Chief catches a huge smattering of vitamin-packed watermelony back blast goo.
He’s not entirely happy. He looks positively grisly with all that blown-up melon schmoo on his nice, neat uniform.
He returns my gun and bans me from ever showing up at the police range again.
Polack is on traffic duty for the next month.
He figures it was well worth it.
Back at the flat, Esme is shaking her head and wondering if I’ll ever grow up.
“I may grow old, but I’ll never grow up.” I reply.
I see I have several missed phone calls. Ah, me; no rest for the weary. Back to company-university liaison duties.
After I had contacted these companies, I receive no less than 12 requests for symposia, talks, and seminars to be given to various level of industrial scientific employees in their respective companies.
I am now slated to give academic conferences on stratigraphy, sedimentology, and seismic structural geology to different companies in Houston, Oklahoma City, Denver, Casper, Corpus Christi, New Orleans, and Tulsa. In the next 12 weeks, I’ll be giving no less than 8 talks in seven cities.
I speak with Dean Vermiculari on how best to handle the situation. He understands and appoints two graduate student teaching assistants to handle my classes while I’m on the road. That relieves me of being physically there, but I still have to grade papers, compose lesson plans, and keep things running smoothly until finals.
Besides giving the talks, there’s travel to oil fields, production facilitates, manufacturing plants, hotels, restaurants while I’m in town…the pace is excruciating. I’m gone more than I am at university. Plus in my time back home, I’m still the ad hoc master blaster for the limestone quarry.
Then, there’s the companies arriving on campus, and the roles are reversed. Now I’m the welcome wagon and have to sort out the logistics of receiving the company representatives. I need to set up the colloquia to introduce the companies to the prospective students, arrange lodging, arrange passes for the university, transportation, “Meet-and-Greet’s, ad infinitum.
I knew this was having a bit of effect on me when I came back to the flat after one particularly grueling ordeal of canceled flights, full hotels, missed connections and lukewarm reception by the company workers.
“Hello”, I said, as I walked in the flat, “I believe you have a reservation for…”
Esme just stood there, wondering if I was having a laugh.
No, I wasn’t. I was completely hallucinating from road weariness, lack of sleep, jet lag, and total disorientation. This continued on for the next approximately 18 months.
Esme was beginning to have second thoughts about all this.
My teaching load was diminished by one whole introductory course. However, I was still flying hither and yon, delivering symposia, meeting with young geoscientists and getting to know the ins-and-outs of the Oil Industry.
I found it particularly fascinating.
Time marched on and it was once again it was the recruiting season. We had no less than eight oil companies visiting the university in their quest to swell the roster of their junior scientists.
I’m still busier than a one-armed paperhanger in a windstorm, but have settled into a groove of sorts. I know the company recruiters and they now know me. I’ve actually struck up friendships with several. Particularly since I take them to the best local restaurants and bars after their recruiting duties are finished.
I’ve met with recruiting representatives of Shrill Petrol, Mexxon, Nobil, Nocono Oil, Flug, Geddy, Brutish Petroleum, and Qexaco.
The recruiting season is winding down and I find myself with Red (not Adair), of Nocono Oil.
“Well, Doctor Rock”, Red states, “Another fine recruiting run. We’ve snagged two of your young geologists and one geophysicist. I’d say it was almost a perfect score.”
We’re sitting in the Norton’s Steakhouse. After a couple of prime pink porterhouses, we’re working on the post-dinner double vodka and bitter lemon for me, and Lagavulin for Red.
“Almost perfect?” I ask.
“Yeah. There’s been this one small nagging concern from our company higher-ups.” Red continues.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“We need some more senior people. For one thing, we’ve recently opened a new petroleum laboratory down in our Houston office. Going to need some serious talent to run that show.” Red says.
“I see”, I reply, “And…?”
“We need mentors. Those with varied and far-flung knowledge. They must be well educated, global in experience and stature, with an [ahem] diverse set of skills.” Red notes.
“Whew”, I agree, “That’s a tall order. You want my help with names of possible candidates? Is that it?”
“Not as such, Doctor.” Red drains his drink, motions for me to do the same, and orders another round.
Our drinks arrive and Red downs half his in one gulp.
“Well, then”, I continue, “How can I help?”
Red chuckles, “For someone so educated, you can really be thick as two short planks at times.”
I sit back, and sip my Old Thought Provoker.
The mercury-vapors light off.
“No!” I say, incredulously.
“Oh, yes.” Red smiles.
“No?” I ask, slowly taking in the possible effects of what he’s hinting at…
“OK, Doctor Rocknocker”, Red gets all serious and corporate, “We’d like to offer you a position at Nocono Oil as Senior Laboratory Manager and Head of Corporate Continuing Education.”
You could have knocked me over with a grenade. I was stunned. I fumbled with my drink.
“Red, you old con artist” I reply, “Is this a set-up?”
Red, serious as a heart attack, looks directly at me and replies, “Doctor Rock, absolutely not, it’s a genuine offer.”
He slides over a folder with some papers inside. “Here are the particulars.”
Reeling, I accept the folder. I open it and right after the corporate logos and legal bullshit, I see a tall figure with a whole raft of zeros trailing behind it.
I read furiously. The job would be both interesting and challenging. It would be in Houston, with travel and teaching at all other company outposts on a regular basis. I reexamine that figure from before and verify that I’m not now hallucinating.
The job comes with furnished, corporate-paid housing, incredible benefits, loads of opportunity for advancement, more opportunity to travel, really generous vacation time…
“Right. On the level?” I ask again.
“Yep.” Red bluntly says.
“Well”, I gulp, “you know I have to discuss this with Esme”, whom he’s met several times previous.
“Of course, and you probably want to finish out the semester, correct?” red asks.
“Oh, yes.” I reply. There would be a monsoon of paperwork and other grunt work I’d need to conclude or hand over if I were to accept this offer.
“OK, then”, Red finishes his drink, motions for me to do the same, a real rarity; but I was in another dimension at this point. He orders another round and sits back, waiting on a refill.
“You have two weeks to reply” Red states.
“I know that’s not a terribly long time, but we need to fill this position ASAP. Can I ask for that? Your answer, yea, or nay, within a fortnight?” Red demands.
“Yes”, I reply. “I at least owe you that.”
And that was the end of the discussion for the night about me joining the private sector. We stayed a few more hours, chatting, smoking my cigars, and discussing everything but the lumbering elephant in the room.
We part outside as I need to head back to our flat. Red wants to go downtown to one of those “Gentleman’s Clubs” he’s heard were so famous at the time.
I was flummoxed the whole cab ride home.
It was late when I returned, but I simply had to wake Es with the news.
“Rock, for pity’s sake, its 2 o’clock in the morning!” Es protests. “Can’t this wait until later?”
“Sorry, my dear” I reply, probably as serious as I ever had with Esme. “This is a potential game-changer.”
“What is it? Are you OK?” Esme trembles.
“Oh, I’m fine. Better than fine.” I reply.
She’s relieved.
“Then what’s so important?” she asks.
“Um…how would you like to move to Houston?” I ask.
“You going to teach at Cougar High (University of Houston)?” she inquires.
“Nope. Brace yourself. I’ve been offered a job with Nocono Oil.” I finally spill the beans.
Esme is slightly stunned and sits down.
I go to the wet bar, fix me a bracing potato juice and citrus and Esme a stiff white Zinfandel.
I hand her the wine and she is still semi-dazed and digesting the information.
I slurp a good portion of my drink, retrieve her Sobranjes and me a cigar from my Turkmenistan humidor.
I sit on the couch next to her and hug her soundly.
“Esme? Es? Earth to Es? You in there?” I joke.
“Oh, Yeah. Rock. Really? Hang on”, she leaves, returning with her housecoat as this might take a little time.
“So?” I ask, “Your thoughts. Now! Immediately! Initial reaction!” I try to jar her back into reality.
“Well, what do you want?” she asks.
“C’mon, my dearest. You know I hate that. No, what do you think? What do you honestly think?” I reply.
We both fire up our smokes, and I refresh our drinks. We return to the dinner table where Red’s folder lies.
“Es, here. Look at this.” I say, sliding the portfolio over to her.
She reads like a hungry man at a Vegas casino buffet. I can tell where she was stopped by something extraordinary.
“This is for real?” she asks, “Red’s not pulling a fast one?”
“Nope. It’s the genuine article”, I tell her, “He needs my reply within two weeks.”
“Rock, Rock…I just don’t know. It’s a lot to process at 0230 in the morning. Let’s go to bed and have a think in the morning. You have the luxury of at least that amount of time.” She notes.
“Right again, as usual”, I say, “Stuff it. It can wait.” We toddle off to bed.
The next morning, over Cuban omelets and Greenland Coffees, we sort through the particulars.
“Rock, it’s an extraordinary offer. But, do you want to leave teaching? I remember how you got all animated by Dean Vermiculari giving you the corporate liaison job and how that would improve your shot at tenure.” She notes.
“I just don’t know. I’m still shell-shocked.” I tell her. “Let me go to school and we’ll pick this up tonight. We both have work to do no matter what. Oh, bloody hell. I hadn’t considered your job. Another wrinkle in the mess.”
“Don’t you worry about that”, Esme smiles. “One catastrophe at a time.”
“I do so love you.” I hug her soundly. “Think I should mention this offer to anyone at school?”
“No. Definitely not.” Esme shakes her head. “Let’s figure this out on our own.”
“I agree”, I say, kiss her and depart for school once again.
The next week was a blur. Recruiting duties were dragging and I was being preoccupied.
Even my students noted the lack of in-room explosions lately.
I spend the next Saturday at the quarry, doing some small amount of blasting. I quiz the quarry owners about their progress in acquiring a new master for the quarry’s operation.
“Oh, Doctor Rock” they gush, “You’re doing such a fine job, we haven’t really looked. Why do you ask?”
“No particular reason at this time, I reply, “But perhaps you might want to begin looking”
The chinks in my armor were finally starting to show.
Sunday was spent out on Sliver Lake, with Esme and me chasing the elusive crappie, perch, and bucketmouth bass. It also gave us a chance to clear our heads from work, school and other such intrusions. We both needed a bit of downtime.
Later that night, after a meal of beer-battered fillet of crappie and perch on the barbie, we sit down at the dinner table.
The portfolio sits there, taunting us.
I get up, makes us both our drinks, sit down and declare that this is it.
“Es, darling” I say, “its nut-cuttin’ time. We need to make our decision.”
“You’re right.” Es agrees, “Time for risk-reward analysis. Get some paper and some pencils.”
We spend the next few hours listing the pros and cons of accepting the Houston position or staying here and pursuing my tenured professorship.
After several hours, I stretch, stand, and go to the fridge. I retrieve the bottle of Bollinger Les Vieilles Vignes Francaises I had purchased the other day.
I return to the table with the wine and the glasses, pop the cork and pour us both a glass of high-brow bubble water.
I hug and kiss Esme like I had just returned from a long, solo expedition.
“Esme, my darling. I’d like to propose a toast. First to us. Hа здоровый!”
“Cheers!” Esme replies.
“Secondly to Red, Dean Vermiculari, the quarry guys, Polack the Cop, and all the others that makes our life weird around here.”
“Seconded”, Es echoes.
“Finally: to Houston, Texas. Our new home!” I finally add.
The next morning, Dean Vermiculari peers over the top of his pince-nez glasses. He’s not looking overly happy with me right now.
“Why is it, Doctor, that everyone that receives the job of corporate liaison ends up going with corporate?” he asks.
“Perhaps it’s just the exposure to another world that exists beyond academia.” I reply, truthfully.
“Doctor Rocknocker,” the Dean gravely states, “I am not at all happy about your decision. We had great hopes for you here and you were riding right up the tenure track. Another five years and it would have been assured.”
“Five years is a long time, Dean”, I state the obvious.
“Yes, indeed.” The Dean replies frostily. “However, you are young. Perhaps you need to get this private sector nonsense out of your system, then you can return to academia where you belong.”
“Perhaps, perhaps”, I reply.
“Please, do consider this option down the road. You and your antics will be missed here, by students and faculty alike.” He says.
“I will, Dean, I promise.” I reply “However, for now, it’s time for my boot heels to be wanderin’.”
“Doctor, I will miss your strange and unique way of looking at life. I reluctantly accept your resignation at the end of the current semester and wish you all the best in your newest endeavors. Please remember us when corporate support for academia is mentioned in your new company.” he says.
“I promise you, Dean, I will not forget what I’ve learned here and what you’ve taught. It’s the least I can do,” I reply. “I will never forget my roots.”
“All I can ask”, he concludes. He stands to shake my hand. We shake and my audience is over.
I resign from the quarry a week later. They haven’t found a new blaster but wish me well on my new journey. I tell them I’m here until the end of the semester, so I won’t leave them high and dry.
I tell Polack the Cop about all the goings-on.
“Who the hell can I roust for beer and cigars now?” He whines. “Let me know when you get to Texas if they need any cops. I wouldn’t mind trying’ that. Hell, maybe a Texas Ranger!”
“A Cheesehead Ranger…?” I assure him I will and pass a box of cigars to him as a parting gift. He gives me a mayoral-signed get-out-of-jail-free card.
“Now you can drive that old Harley just as crazy as you want.” He chuckles.
“Thanks, Polack.” I say, shaking his hand. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I sold my bike a week earlier.
Red was very chuffed with the news.
“Snagged me a big one this time!’ He laughed, over the phone.
There was enough paperwork, considerations and decisions to be made to last the remaining time Esme and I had in-state until our move. Already, a moving company had arrived, done inventory, and was preparing for our move to Houston.
Esme resigned her position and decided she wanted to take some time off. She wanted to be a housewife, a colleague, and not have to work for once at an outside job. My new position allowed for that in spades. Besides with her credentials, anytime when she wants to re-join the workforce, there are myriad opportunities in the Bayou City.
We made the choice of housing out west of town, in Katy, Texas. We could have chosen Sugarland, Addicks, Greenspoint, Greenway, or the Memorial area. However, these west Houston company properties were closest to the job and largest in square footage.
My students got wind of my resignation and relocation. They threw me an unexpected farewell party at the Gast Haus. It was nickel-beer night and since they were footing the bill, it all worked out just fine.
I would miss the old place. The camaraderie, the seasons, the university; hell my home these last many years. I’ve been on many, many expeditions, but I always returned home.
Now, home was moving and was awaiting our arrival.
Esme and I said our farewells to our families as well. We were the first through college, the first ones to travel international, the first Doctor in the family, and the first to leave the state.
That’s a lot of familial firsts.
I had to keep reminding everyone it wouldn’t be the last. Hell, we’re just moving to Texas, it’s not like we’re off to Greenland or Mongolia…
[Gasp]
We saddled up Es’s old Chevy Nova, took one last, lingering look in the rearview mirror, and said fare thee well to our previous lives.
“We’ll be back. Someday. I promise” I told the city of our youth and young married adulthood.
We decided to drive to Houston because we had the luxury of a bit of time. We needed the stretch to chew over some interpersonal and private things on the way to the next chapter in our lives. Besides, the weather was good, the roads ahead open and clear, and Texas had no ‘Open Container’ law, yet.
We pointed the old Nova south and hit the gas.
A week later, we’re wandering around our new house in Katy, Texas. Our belongings, scant though they may be, arrived the day after we did. Esme and I spent the next couple of day rearranging the house, buying necessary domestic bits and pieces, and getting to know our new neighborhood.
First thing, though, Esme wanted to replace the old Nova. I concurred, but insisted we keep it as a second car and went out to purchase our first new car as a couple.
I wanted a Land Rover. We ended up with a glossy black Toyota 4-Runner. Close enough.
I was scheduled to show up at my new job the next Monday.
I had my own parking spot, complete with “Reserved for Dr. Rock” painted on the bumper block. I was shown my new lab and was introduced to my seven laboratory assistants. I was shown the catalogs I could use to order what I needed and went over the requisition procedures.
I was trotted around to meet the company CEO, CFO, CIO, VPs and many, many more company executives and managers. I’ve met with presidents and heads of state, I was impressed but not overly. They seemed like a more or less nice bunch of chaps.
Almost exactly five weeks to the day from our arrival in Houston, I come home, yelling “Darling, I’m home!”
Esme comes to greet me with a rib-rearranging hug. She tells me to sit at the dinner table, where my long hard day at the office drink, cigar, ashtray, and lighter are already set.
“How was work, dear?” she asks, sitting down with her Perrier water.
“Oh, it’s going great. The knotheads let me have an open-ended budget until I get the labs sorted just the way I want it. These guys pay their bills on time and I have carte blanche at Wards Scientific, and other supply houses. My crew is great, no interpersonal crapola, and hard workers. I can smoke in my office and no one dares give me shit about my cigars. I’m getting to know the exploration department quite well. They’re really interested in our expeditions and are more interested in my opinions of their new exploration directives.”
Esme just smiles and sips her water.
“Odd”, I thought.
“That’s great, dear.” She says. “I am so glad to hear it.”
“Me too”, I say, “How are you holding up after all these weeks alone?”
“Oh, I’m getting used to it.” She smiles.
And smiles. Beatifically. Glowing.
“What?” I ask.
“Remember what we talked about in the car on the way down here?” She asks.
“We talked about a lot of things…” I say, suddenly my eyes grew very, very wide indeed.
“Yes. You’re going to be a father. I’m pregnant, Rock.” Esme smiles.
submitted by Rocknocker to Rocknocker [link] [comments]

Coheed and Mastadon tour dates

May 28, Louisville, Iroquois Amphitheater
May 29, Columbus, Ohio, Express Live! Outdoor Amphitheatre
May 31, Atlanta, Coca-Cola Roxy
June 01, Simpsonville, South Carolina, CCNB Amphitheatre at Heritage Park Simpsonville
June 02, Baltimore, MECU Pavilion
June 04, Asbury Park, New Jersey, Stone Pony Summer Stage
June 06, Boston, Rockland Trust Bank Pavilion
June 07, New York, Ford Amphitheater at Coney Island Boardwalk
June 08, Camden, New Jersey, BB&T Pavilion
June 10, Pittsburgh, Stage AE – Outdoors
June 11, Detroit, Michigan Lottery Amphitheatre at Freedom Hill
June 13, Council Bluffs, Iowa, Harrah's Council Bluffs - Stir Cove
June 14, Chicago, Huntington Bank Pavilion at Northerly Island
June 15, Minneapolis, The Armory
June 18, Kansas City, Missouri, Starlight Theatre
June 19, Denver, Fillmore Auditorium
June 20, Salt Lake City, The Great Saltair
June 22, Seattle, Marymoor
June 23, Portland, Theater of the Clouds at Moda Center
June 25, San Francisco, The Masonic
June 26, San Diego, Petco Park - Park at the Park
June 28, Las Vegas, The Joint at Hard Rock Hotel & Casino Las Vegas
June 29, Los Angeles, Greek Theatre
June 30, Phoenix, Nevada, Comerica Theatre
July 02, Austin, Austin360 Amphitheater
July 03, Irving, The Pavilion at Toyota Music Factory
source: http://dallas.culturemap.com/news/entertainment/02-12-19-coheed-cambria-mastodon-toyota-music-factory-irving/
submitted by DaisyLayz to TheFence [link] [comments]

Percy Jackson and the Olympians Season 1 Episode 5 (pt 1)

I know this took a really long time, hope you guys like it.
If you work for Disney, this is a pitch.
​
Cast
Jack Dylan Grazer as Percy Jackson
Cassidy Nugent as Annabeth Chase
Nick Palatas as Grover Underwood
Liv Tyler as the Nereid
Sylvester Stallone as Gabe Ugliano
Barbra Walters as herself
Vin Diesel as Crusty
Idris Elba as Charon
Andy Serkis as Evil Voice
Hugo Weaving as Hades
Dwayne Johnson as Ares
​
Percy Jackson and the Olympians:
Season one episode five: “And I Thought Airport Security Was Ridiculous” or “Will the Real Lightning Thief Please Stand Up?” screenplay
INT – LAS VEGAS TAXI CAB – EARLY NOON
PERCY, ANNABETH and GROVER get into the back of a taxi cab.
CABBY:
(Bored, uninterested, cigar in mouth)
Where to, kids?
ANNABETH:
(Calm, confident)
Los Angeles, please.
CABBY:
(Raises eyebrow, puffs on cigar)
Dat’s three hundred miles from here, miss. You’ll have to pay upfront.
ANNABETH:
Do you take casino debit cards?
CABBY:
Depends. I’ll have to give it a swipe.
ANNABETH hands the cab driver her LotusCash card, and he looks at it skeptically. He rolls his eyes and swipes it, and the meter begins rattling and the lights on it flash. When an infinity symbol appears on the meter, the cabby’s cigar drops out of his mouth in shock.
CABBY:
(Shocked, excited)
W-where in Los Angeles, your highness?
ANNABETH:
(Sits up a little, smiles)
Santa Monica pier, please. Get us there by evening, and you can keep the change.
The cabby slams down the gas pedal, and several cars honk at him as he flies down the street. As they head through the Mojave desert, PERCY tells ANNABETH and GROVER about the dream he had before they went to the Lotus Hotel and Casino.
PERCY:
… And then the voice in the pit saw me. He showed me my mother… and a black throne carved with faces screaming in agony. And then…
(Gulps)
… The undead soldiers put a red robe and a laurel of thorns on me… and then I became one of them.
GROVER:
Well that got dark fast.
PERCY:
There’s something else. The guy in the cloak, the Lightning Thief, called the voice something… The… “Something” One…
ANNABETH:
(Disappointed, blunt)
Well that’s incredibly unspecific. Was it the Rich One? The Silent One? Those are both nicknames for HADES.
PERCY:
(Unsure)
Maybe…
GROVER:
Well, the throne sounds like the way HADES’S throne is described. Black obsidian carved with faces of damnation.
PERCY:
Yeah but… the throne wasn’t the main part of the dream. And the voice in the pit… I dunno, it just doesn’t feel like the voice of a god. It seemed… older.
ANNABETH’S eye get wide with dread.
PERCY:
(Concerned)
What? What’s wrong?
ANNABETH:
(A bit uneasy)
N-nothing. I was just thinking… no. It has to be HADES. He probably sent the Lightning Thief to steal the MASTER BOLT, and something must’ve went wrong-
PERCY:
Like what?
ANNABETH:
I-
(Reluctant)
-I don’t know. But to steal something as important as the MASTER BOLT, and the fact that ZEUS has his best trackers on the job, a lot of stuff could go wrong. So, the thief could’ve hidden the bolt, or maybe even lost it. Anyway, the thief failed to deliver the BOLT to HADES, that’s what the voice in your dream said, right? The Lightning Thief failed. That explains what the Furies were looking for when they attacked us on the bus. They probably thought we had the BOLT.
PERCY notices a hint of anxiety in ANNABETH’S eyes, and sees that she seems to be shaking a bit.
PERCY:
(Suspicious, confused)
But… if HADES thinks I already have the BOLT, why would I be coming to the UNDERWORLD?
GROVER:
To blackmail him into giving your mom back.
PERCY:
(Surprised)
You know, you have pretty dark thoughts for a goat.
GROVER:
(Blunt)
Thanks.
PERCY:
But… the voice said he was waiting for two items. If the MASTER BOLT’S one, what’s the other?
GROVER shrugs.
PERCY:
(Turns to ANNABETH, knowing look in his eyes)
You know what it is, don’t you? The voice in the pit?
ANNABETH:
(Hesitant, worried)
PERCY, I… let’s not talk about it. It’s probably HADES.
PERCY:
(Thinking)
I just… I just feel like there’s something we’re still missing.
ANNABETH:
(Uneasy)
Well, I guess we’ll find the answer in the UNDERWORLD.
PERCY forlornly looks out the window at the desert scenery whizzing past.
EXT – SANTA MONICA BEACH - SUNSET
The kids head to the edge of the surf.
ANNABETH:
Well? What now?
PERCY stares out over the ocean, and gets a longing look in his eyes. He takes a deep breath, taking in the ocean air, and slowly steps into the water.
ANNABETH:
(Surprised, worried)
PERCY? What are you-
PERCY ignores her, and continues walking into the water.
GROVER:
Dude, do you have any idea how polluted that water is?
ANNABETH:
(Concerned)
PERCY, get out of there. You’ll grow a third-
Once PERCY gets chest deep into the water, he dives under, disappearing from ANNABETH and GROVER’S view.
EXT – UNDER THE PACIFIC OCEAN – SAME TIME
PERCY holds his breath at first, then remembers he can breathe underwater, and lets himself breathe normally.
PERCY:
That’s gonna take some getting used to.
He looks around the water, curious, then notices a mako shark right beside him.
PERCY
(Startled, jumps)
Ah!
PERCY calms down when he realizes the shark is not trying to harm him, and it nuzzles up against him like a dog. PERCY hesitantly touches the shark’s dorsal fin, and it bucks gently, inviting PERCY to hold on tighter. PERCY grabs onto the shark’s fin, and it takes off, blasting through the water like a rocket, pulling PERCY along.
PERCY:
(Surprised)
Whoa, boy!
The shark pulls PERCY deeper and deeper into the ocean.
PERCY:
(Slightly worried)
Where are you taking me?
The shark begins to slow down, and PERCY catches his breath when they come to a huge, gaping, pitch black canyon.
WOMAN’S VOICE: (O.S.)
(Quiet, gentle, far away)
PERSEUS…
PERCY is surprised to hear the voice of the river spirit he spoke to in St. Louis.
WOMAN’S VOICE: (O.S.)
(Gentle)
PERCY JACKSON…
PERCY makes out a light in the darkness of the canyon, and it slowly gets bigger until he sees beautiful woman with black hair, her body glowing gently with white light, wearing a flowing, greenish-white silk dress. She dismounts, smiles, and gives PERCY a small bow. Her giant seahorse and the mako shark begin playfully chasing each other.
WATER SPIRIT:
(Smiling, kind)
You have come far, my hero. Well done.
PERCY awkwardly bows, as she did.
WATER SPIRIT:
(Small laugh)
You are prince, PERCY JACKSON, you need not bow to me.
PERCY:
You’re the spirit I talked to in the Mississippi River, aren’t you?
WATER SPIRIT:
Yes, child. I am a Nereid, a spirit of the sea. It was not easy for me to travel so far up river, but my freshwater cousins, the naiads, were able to help me sustain myself. The naiads honor your father, though they do not serve in his court.
PERCY:
And… you do? Serve in his court, I mean?
NEREID:
Indeed. I must say, it has been many long years since a son of the sea god has been born. My sisters and I have watched over you with great interest.
PERCY:
(Confused, a bit resentful)
If my dad’s so interested in me, why doesn’t he come talk to me in person?
A cold current rises out of the canyon, and almost knocks PERCY off his feet.
NEREID:
(Sad, gentle)
Do not judge the Lord of the Sea too harshly. Your father is incredibly busy; he now stands on the brink of an unwanted war. And apart from that, your father is forbidden from helping you directly. Gods mustn’t show favoritism, you know.
PERCY:
(Surprised, a bit sad)
Even to their own children?
NEREID:
Especially to their own children. However, the gods can work through indirect influences, which is why your father has sent me to give you a warning; and a gift.
The Nereid holds out her hand, and shows PERCY three gleaming white pearls.
NEREID:
You journey to the realm of HADES. Few have returned from that place; Orpheus, who possessed great musical skill, Hercules, who possessed great strength, Houdini, who could escape even the depths of TARTARUS. Have you any of these talents?
PERCY:
(Awkward)
Um… well… no.
NEREID:
(Kind smile)
But you possess something else, PERCY JACKSON. Gifts you have yet to know. The oracles have foretold great and terrible future for you, should you survive to manhood. Your father would not have you die before your time comes. Therefore, he wishes to give you these pearls. When you are in need, smash them at your feet.
PERCY:
(Tentatively takes the pearls)
… What do they do?
NEREID:
That depends on the manner of your need. But remember this; what belongs to the sea will always return to the sea.
PERCY:
(Stares at the pearls with wonder)
You said you also came to give me a warning. What is it?
NEREID:
(Leans forward)
Listen to your heart, or you shall fail. HADES feeds upon doubt and hopelessness. He will try to trick you into mistrusting yourself. Once you enter the Realm of the Dead, he will never willingly let you leave. You must keep strong, and have faith.
The Nereid mounts her giant seahorse, and slowly descends back into the dark canyon.
NEREID:
Good luck, PERCY JACKSON.
PERCY:
(Urgent)
Wait! Back in St. Louis, you told me not to trust “the gifts”. What gifts?
NEREID:
(Voice becoming distant)
Farewell, my young hero. Listen to your heart…
The Nereid disappears into the darkness, leaving PERCY alone with the mako shark. PERCY gives the pearls an empty look, then begins swimming back to the surface.
EXT – SANTA MONICA BEACH – A FEW MINUTES LATER
PERCY shows the pearls to his friends.
ANNABETH:
(Skeptical)
This can’t be good. No gift ever comes for free.
PERCY:
But… she just gave them to me. No strings attached.
ANNABETH:
You ever heard the saying, “No such thing as a free lunch”? It’s an Ancient Greek saying that works pretty well in English, especially in America. There will be a price, just wait and see.
PERCY puts the pearls in his pocket, a slightly worried/disappointed look on his face. Later, as night falls, the kids cautiously wander around L.A., police sirens blaring in the back ground. ANNABETH notices a cop car coming, and pulls the boys into an alley. Once the cop car passes, they cautiously leave the alley.
PERCY:
(Relieved)
Phew… that was a close-
PERCY stops mid-sentence when he sees a his stepdad GABE, who is sitting with a pretty blonde woman, being interviewed by Barbra Walters on a TV in an appliance store.
GABE: (ON TV SCREEN)
(Feigning grief)
Honest, Ms. Walters, if it weren’t for Sugar here, my grief counselor, I… I don’t know what I’d do. My stepson took everything I care about… my wife… my car… I just…
GROVER:
For some reason I don’t think she’s a grief counselor.
GABE:
(Wipes away fake tear)
I’m sorry, I have a hard time talkin’ bout it.
BARBRA WALTERS:
(Overly dramatic, turns to camera)
There you have it, America. A man torn apart. An adolescent boy with serious issues. Here’s the last known photo of the troubled young fugitive, taken in Denver, Colorado, about a week ago.
A grainy image of PERCY, ANNABETH and GROVER talking to ARES outside the diner in Denver comes up on the screen next to Barbra Walters.
BARBRA WALTERS:
(Over dramatic)
Who are the other children in this photo? Who is the man with them? Is PERCY JACKSON simply a delinquent, a terrorist, or perhaps the brainwashed victim of a frightening new cult? When we come back, we’ll chat with leading child psychologist. Stay tuned, America.
PERCY’S face becomes twisted with fury, and GROVER gently grabs him by the shoulder.
GROVER:
Come on, dude. Let’s get going.
The kids begin wandering around L.A., and become nervous when they notice some shady people hanging around. They past by some people who look like gangbangers, bums, and various other suspicious looking people.
GRUFF MALE VOICE: (O.S.)
Hey, kid!
PERCY, startled, stops, and a homeless looking man comes out of an alley.
HOMELESS MAN:
(Fidgeting)
Spare some change?
PERCY:
(Awkward, nervous)
Um… sorry, no.
Several other bums come out of the dark alley, and when the kids try to run, several bums come up from behind them, staring the kids down threateningly. The first bum pulls out a switch blade, and PERCY uncaps Riptide, shocking the bums. PERCY swings his blade at the bum leader, but it passes through him as if he were a hologram.
HOMELESS MAN:
(Shocked)
What the-!?
PERCY:
(Surprised, disappointed)
Oh right, I, uh… I forgot about that.
ANNABETH kicks one of the bums in the crotch, causing him to crumple to the ground in pain.
ANNABETH:
(Urgent)
Run!
The kids start running down the sidewalk, the bums chasing after them, shouting at them to come back. The kids rush around a corner, and ANNABETH sees an open shop called “CRUSTY’S WATER BED PALACE”.
ANNABETH:
There!
The kids run into the shop, hide behind a display bed in the window, and the bums run past.
GROVER:
(Relieved)
Phew… I think we lost them.
MALE VOICE: (O.S.)
Lost who?
PERCY, ANNABETH AND GROVER, IN UNISON:
(Startled, jump)
Ah!
The kids turn around to see a tall, pale, bald man in a tacky leisure suit and silver chains around his neck, standing right behind them.
TALL BALD MAN:
(Grinning creepily, showing off yellow teeth)
How ya’ll doin? I’m Crusty.
PERCY:
(Holding back a laugh, quiet)
Yes, you are.
CRUSTY:
(Raises eyebrow)
Hm?
PERCY:
(Slightly embarrassed, awkward)
I said, uh… sorry to barge… in.
CRUSTY:
Hidin’ from them lowlifes, huh? Yeah, they hang around here every night. I get a lotta people comin’ in here cuz of them. So…
(Gestures around shop)
… Can I interest you kids in a water bed?
PERCY:
(Uncomfortable)
Um… I mean, uh… I don’t really think I need-
CRUSTY gracefully sweeps up behind PERCY, grabs him by the shoulders, and pushes him deeper into the shop.
PERCY:
Uh, okay, this is weird…
CRUSTY proudly gestures to a vibrating bed with lava lamps and black satin sheets.
CRUSTY:
Million hand massage. Why don’t you lie down? Hell, take a nap, I don’t care.
PERCY:
(Anxious)
Um, no, I think we’ll be leave-
GROVER:
(Excited)
Dude, million hand massage?! No way!
GROVER jumps into the massage bed.
GROVER:
(Voice vibrating)
O-oh d-dude, th-this is s-so s-sweet!
CRUSTY:
(Disappointed, stroking chin)
Hmm, not quite…
PERCY:
(Uneasy)
Huh? Not quite what?
CRUSTY:
(Takes ANNABETH by the shoulder)
Do me a favor, honey, and try this one over here.
ANNABETH:
(Uncomfortable)
I… but…
CRUSTY ushers ANNABETH over to a bed, and tries pushing her into it.
ANNABETH:
(Angry)
Hey! Get your hands off-
CRUSTY:
(Snaps fingers)
Ergo!
Ropes grow out from under the bed, and strap ANNABETH down to the mattress.
ANNABETH:
(Panicking, screaming)
Hey! LET ME GO!
GROVER tries to get out of his bed, but ropes tie him down as well.
GROVER:
(Alarmed)
I-it’s n-not s-sweet a-anymore, d-dudes!
PERCY:
(Steps back, shocked)
What the hell are you-
CRUSTY:
(Quickly places hand behind PERCY’S neck)
Whoa, take it easy, kid. I’ll get you your own bed in a sec.
PERCY:
(Assertive, serious)
Let my friends go.
CRUSTY:
(Calm, friendly)
Oh don’t worry, I will. Soon as I make ‘em fit.
PERCY:
(Confused, angry)
Fit? What do you-
CRUSTY:
Lemme explain. All the beds are exactly six feet. Your friends are too short, see, so I gotta stretch ‘em out a bit. Can’t stand imperfect measurements…
CRUSTY snaps his fingers again, and more ropes wrap around GROVER and ANNABETH’S feet and arms, and begin slowly stretching them. PERCY watches in horror as his friends scream in pain.
PERCY:
(Angry, shouting)
Let them go, now!
CRUSTY:
Don’t worry, they only need a few inches. Hell, they might even survive! Now, why don’t we get you set up with a bed you like, huh?
ANNABETH:
(Screaming in pain)
PERCY!!!
GROVER:
(Screaming in pain)
HELP!!!
PERCY:
(Suspicious)
Your name’s not really CRUSTY, is it?
CRUSTY:
Legally, it’s PROCRUSTES.
PERCY:
The Stretcher. The one who tried to kill Theseus with hospitality.
PROCRUSTES:
(Grinning)
That’s me. But who can pronounce Procrustes? ‘Crusty’ on the other hand, much easier to market.
PERCY:
(Eyes get wide, gets an idea)
Uh… yeah! I totally agree. Has a nice ring to it.
PROCRUSTES:
(Flattered)
You think so?
PERCY:
Oh, absolutely. And the craftsmanship on these beds is simply fabulous.
PROCRUSTES:
(Grinning)
I tell my customers that all the time. I mean, how many beds have you seen with lava lamps built into the headboards?
PERCY:
(Shrugging)
Not too many.
PROCRUSTES:
Exactly!
ANNABETH:
(Angry, confused, screaming in pain)
PERCY!!! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!?
PERCY:
(Dismissive)
Don’t mind her. She couldn’t never understand the art of a well crafted bed.
PROCRUSTES:
(Sighing, disappointed)
None of my customers do. Never exactly six feet, so inconsiderate. And then they have the nerve to complain about the fittings!
PERCY:
So… what do you do if they’re taller than six feet?
PROCRUSTES:
Oh, easy fix. I just center the customer best I can, then grab my trusty friend here-
(Lets go of PERCY’S neck, reaches behind desk, pulls out huge, double sided bronze axe)
- And I lop off whatever hangs off either side!
PERCY:
(Surprised, nervous)
Oh… well, I mean, that’s just perfectly sensible.
PROCRUSTES:
(Excited)
Oh, you have no idea what it feels like to finally have an intelligent customer!
PERCY worriedly look over to his friends, ANNABETH gasping for air, struggling against the ropes, GROVER making strangled gurgling sounds.
PERCY:
So… CRUSTY, my man, this bed…
(Gestures to giant heart shaped bed with red satin sheets)
… Does it really have dynamic stabilizers to stop wave motion?
PROCRUSTES:
Sure does. Why don’t you give it a try?
PERCY:
(Stroking chin, pretending to be interested)
Yeah, maybe I will. But… would it work even for a big guy like you?
PROCRUSTES:
Absolutely.
PERCY:
Really? No waves at all?
PROCRUSTES:
None. Guaranteed.
PERCY:
(Pretending to be skeptical)
No way.
PROCRUSTES:
Way.
PERCY:
Prove it.
PROCRUSTES puts his axe down, lies in the bed, and pats the mattress.
PROCRUSTES:
See? No waves at all-
PERCY:
(Snaps fingers)
Ergo!
Ropes spring out of the sides of the bed, tying PROCRUSTES down to it, his head hanging off the top.
PROCRUSTES:
(Shocked, angry)
What the-?!
PERCY:
(Frowns, feigning disappointment)
Oooh, sorry, man. Looks like you don’t quite fit…
(Uncaps Riptide)
… Let me make a few adjustments.
PROCRUSTES:
(Anxious, gulps)
Whoa, uh, y-you drive a hard bargain, kid. Tell you what; let me go, and I, uh… I’ll give you thirty percent off any of the floor models!
PERCY:
(Sarcastic, pretending to consider offer)
Really? Any of the floor models?
PROCRUSTES:
Y-yep! A-and no money down. And no interest for six months.
PERCY:
Hm. That’s a pretty tempting offer. But I think I have a better one.
PROCRUSTES:
(Curious)
Really? What’s that?
PERCY:
(Raises Riptide, aiming for PROCRUSTES’S neck)
Go to TARTARUS.
PROCRUSTES:
(Frowns)
That’s not a-
PERCY swings Riptide down, and chops off PROCRUSTES’S head, turning the giant salesman to yellow dust and black smoke, then quickly cuts GROVER and ANNABETH’S ropes.
PERCY:
(Concerned)
You alright?
ANNABETH:
(Groaning)
Define “alright”.
PERCY:
(Smirks)
You look taller.
ANNABETH:
(Irritated)
Very funny. Could you maybe be faster saving us next time?
PERCY heads behind CRUSTY’S desk, and begins flipping through papers. He finds a pouch of drachmas, and puts them in his pocket, then finds a map.
PERCY:
So, who’s ready to go to the UNDERWORLD?
GROVER:
(Groaning)
Dude, give me a sec…
(Stretches, back makes sickening ‘pop’ sound)
Oooo, that was good. Okay, I’m ready.
PERCY:
Good.
(Holds up map he found on CRUSTY’S desk)
Because it’s right around the block.
EXT – VALENCIA BOULEVARD – A FEW MINUTES LATER
The kids stand outside of a record store with a sign made of black marble engraved with gold lettering that reads: DOA RECORDING STUDIOS, and stenciled words on the glass door that reads: NO SOLICITING, NO LOITERING, NO LIVING.
ANNABETH:
Well, this was not what I was expecting.
PERCY:
What were you expecting?
ANNABETH:
(Shrugging)
I dunno. Like, a hole by the Hollywood sign that opens when you read some Ancient Greek graffiti?
(Looks directly into the camera)
PERCY:
(Confused)
… Okay, whatever. Anyway, you guys remember the plan?
GROVER:
(Nervous)
Yep. The plan. Love the plan.
ANNABETH:
(Critical, curt)
And what if the plan goes wrong?
PERCY:
(Trying to be reassuring)
Oh come on, don’t be so negative, ANNABETH.
ANNABETH:
(Sarcastic)
Oh yes, PERCY. We’re about to enter the Land of the Dead, but I’m sure if we don’t think negative, we’ll be just fine.
PERCY takes the Nereid’s pearls out of his pocket, and stares at them glumly.
ANNABETH:
(Kind, places hand on PERCY’S shoulder)
I’m sorry, PERCY. You’re right. Well make it.
ANNABETH gives GROVER a nudge.
GROVER:
(Nervous, trying to be reassuring)
Y-yeah! I mean, we’ve made it this far, right? We’ll get the BOLT, save your mom, and save the world.
PERCY:
(Smiles, then gets serious)
Alright. Let’s kick some UNDERWORLD ass.
INT – DOA RECORDING STUDIOS – SAME TIME
The kids enter DOA, Muzak playing softly. The walls are steel gray, the furniture black leather. There are people hanging about the lobby, but at closer glance, they are slightly see through, as if they were made of smoke. The kids head to the main desk, which is raised up on a podium. The security guard behind the desk has a military style haircut, dyed bleach blonde, wearing tortoiseshell shades and a white silk Italian suit, with a black rose pinned to his lapel, and a silver name tag.
PERCY:
(Leans forwards, reads name tag, bewildered)
Your name is CHIRON?
SECURITY GUARD:
(Leans over, smiling, soothing voice)
What a precious lad you are. Tell me, do I look like a centaur?
PERCY:
(Slightly embarrassed)
N-no.
SECURITY GUARD:
Sir.
PERCY:
No, sir.
SECURITY GUARD:
(Gestures to name tag)
Take a closer look, now. It’s C-H-A-R-O-N. Now say it with me, CARE-ON.
PERCY:
(A bit irritated)
CHARON.
CHARON:
Ah-mazing. Now, Mr. CHARON.
PERCY:
(Rolls his eyes)
Mr. CHARON.
CHARON:
Well done. I do hate being confused with that old horse. Now, how may I help you little dead ones?
PERCY looks over at ANNABETH.
ANNABETH:
(A bit uncomfortable)
Well, we uh, wanna go to the UNDERWORLD.
CHARON:
(Blunt, a bit surprised)
Oh. Well, that’s refreshing.
ANNABETH:
(Confused)
I, uh- it is?
CHARON:
Oh, absolutely. Just straightforward and honest, no screaming, no “Oh, please, Mr. CHARON, please give me another chance!”.
(Grins, clasps hands)
So, how did you loves die?
PERCY clears his throat.
GROVER:
(Nervous)
Oh! We uh, we drowned. In a bathtub.
CHARON:
(Raises eyebrow)
All three of you at once?
PERCY:
(Awkward)
I-it was a really big bathtub.
CHARON:
(Blunt)
Naturally. I don’t suppose you have coins for passage, though. If you were adults, I could charge your American Express, or add the ferry fee to your last cable bill. But children…
(Sighs, sad)
… Alas, they never die prepared, it seems. I’m afraid you’ll have to take a seat for a few centuries.
PERCY:
Oh, we have coins.
(Places three drachmas on the desk)
CHARON:
(Licks lips, excited)
My my… real golden drachmas… I haven’t seen those in…
(Hand hovers over drachmas, becomes suspicious)
Here now, just a minute ago, you read my name tag wrong. Are you dyslexic, mate?
PERCY:
(A bit nervous)
No, I’m dead.
CHARON:
(Leans forward, stares the kids down)
You’re not dead.
(Sniffs the air, disdainful)
Two godlings and a satyr. I should have known.
PERCY:
(Awkward)
Okay, first of all, I didn’t want to be a half-blood, and second, we really need to get to the UNDERWORLD.
CHARON makes a strange, growling sound in his throat, and the spirits waiting around the lobby start moving around, restless, lighting cigarettes, fidgeting with their watches, etc.
CHARON:
Why don’t you leave now, and I’ll just forget I saw you.
CHARON starts to reach for the drachmas, but PERCY snatches them away.
PERCY:
(Serious, assertive)
No service, no tip.
CHARON growls again, the spirits start banging on the elevator door.
PERCY:
(Pretending to be disappointed)
It’s really a shame. We had more to offer.
PERCY holds up the pouch of drachmas he took from CRUSTY’S place, pulls out a fistful of the golden coins, and lets them run through his fingers.
CHARON:
(Slightly hungry look on face)
You think I can be bought, godling? Hmmm, just out of curiosity, how much you got there?
PERCY:
(Polite)
A lot. So… what’s your pay like, huh? HADES being good to you, or…?
CHARON:
(Annoyed)
Ugh, you don’t know the half of it. Babysitting these spirits for eternity, always with “Please don’t let me be dead”, “Please let me go in for free”, all day, everyday. I haven’t had a raise in almost three thousand years. I mean, look at me.
(Gestures to his suit)
… You think dressing this good is cheap?
PERCY:
(Nodding, slowly drops a few drachmas on the desk)
Clearly, you deserve better wages as, uh… compensation for the, um… mentally taxing environment you work in.
PERCY glances over at ANNABETH, who quickly nods approvingly.
CHARON:
You know, mate? I think you might be starting to talk some sense.
(Strokes chin, thinking)
Hm… boat’s almost full anyway… tell you what, lad. While you’re talking to the boss man, if you were to mention something about giving me a raise…
PERCY:
I guess I could drop a subtle hint or two.
CHARON:
(Smiles coldly, grabs drachmas)
Come along, then.
CHARON begins pushing through the spirits of the dead, the kids follow him. As CHARON pushes through the spirits, they whisper and wail incomprehensible gibberish.
CHARON:
Freeloaders.
CHARON opens the elevator doors, and they get in with several spirits already in the elevator.
CHARON:
(Turns to face the spirits still in the lobby)
No one get any ideas while I’m gone. And if anyone changes the station from easy-listening again, you’ll all be waiting here for another thousand years.
The elevator doors close, and CHARON slides a key card into the slot on the panel, and the elevator begins to descend.
ANNABETH:
(Uncomfortable)
So… what happens to the spirits in the lobby?
CHARON:
(Blunt)
Nothing.
ANNABETH:
Oh… for how long?
CHARON:
Forever. Or until I’m feeling generous.
ANNABETH:
(Curt, sarcastic)
Well that’s fair.
CHARON:
Nothing about death is fair, love. You’ll find that out for yourself soon enough where you’re heading.
PERCY:
(Confident)
We’ll get out alive.
CHARON:
(Dry)
Ha.
Suddenly, PERCY becomes a bit woozy, blinks a few times, and sees that CHARON’S Italian suit has been replaced by a gray tunic and a black cloak, and his tortoiseshell shades have disappeared, revealing his eyes to be empty black pits. PERCY notices the modern clothes of the spirits become tattered gray cloaks.
CHARON:
Well?
PERCY:
(Realizes he was staring at CHARON’S strange eyes)
N-nothing.
CHARON’S face slowly becomes transparent, showing off his grinning skull. The elevator suddenly starts swaying.
GROVER:
(Holds his hand up to his mouth as if about to vomit)
Oh, dude… I’m gonna be sick…
PERCY becomes a bit woozy again, and suddenly the elevator has become a wooden barge, gently drifting down an oily, black river littered with all sorts of things, from college diplomas, dolls, money, and jewelry.
ANNABETH:
The River Styx… it’s so…
CHARON:
Polluted. For thousands of years, the spirits of the dead have thrown in everything they can’t take with them; hopes, dreams, wishes that never came true. Irresponsible waste management, if you ask me.
Mist begins curling off the river, PERCY glances up to see huge stalactites, and then sees a strange, poison-green light glowing faintly in the distance. PERCY and ANNABETH begin nervously looking around at the spirits around them, and ANNABETH grabs PERCY’S hand. CHARON rows down the river a bit, and soon, they find themselves approaching the shores of the UNDERWORLD, craggy rocks and black volcanic sand, and about a hundred yards up the shore, a huge, stone wall that seems to go on forever in either direction. The kids become more uneasy when they here a deep, powerful howling sound somewhere in the distance.
CHARON:
(His face almost entirely transparent)
Ol’ three face is hungry. Too bad for you, godlings.
The boat slides up onto the black shores, and PERCY sadly watches the spirits shuffle out of the boat. PERCY, ANNABETH and GROVER hesitantly depart the boat.
CHARON:
So long, mates. I’d wish you luck, but there’s none down here.
CHARON begins rowing away.
CHARON:
Oh, and don’t forget to mention my raise.
CHARON eventually disappears from PERCY’S sight, and the kids forlornly trudge up the path with the spirits. As they get closer to the gate, PERCY sees that the gates of the UNDERWORLD seem to be modeled after airport security, with three different entrances with a sign over them that reads: YOU ARE NOW ENTERING EREBUS. Beyond the gates, there are some tollbooth-like structures manned by ghoulish black robed figures like CHARON. PERCY notices lots of spirits moving right along to a gate with a sign over it that reads: EZ DEATH.
PERCY:
(Points to quick moving line)
What do you make of that?
ANNABETH:
Probably goes to the FIELDS OF ASPHODEL. It’s the place where spirits go if they’re too scared to face judgment in court.
PERCY:
(Surprised)
There’s a court for the dead?
ANNABETH:
Yep. There’s three judges, and HADES switches them around once in a while. King Minos, Thomas Jefferson, Shakespeare, people like that. The judges look at a person’s life, and if they were really good, they get to go to ELYSIUM. If they were really bad, the judges decide on a punishment. But for most people… well, most people never do anything really special in their lives, good or evil, so they go to the FIELDS OF ASPHODEL.
PERCY:
Oh… and… what exactly happens in ASPHODEL?
GROVER:
Imagine wandering around in a wheat field.
PERCY:
Well, that doesn't sound so-
GROVER:
Forever.
PERCY:
… Oh. I guess that would kinda suck.
GROVER:
(Eyes wide with fear, points to something)
Not as much as that.
PERCY and ANNABETH look where GROVER is pointing, and see two black robed ghouls grab one of the spirits in line, who begins sniffing him down. They ghouls growl angrily, and begin dragging the shrieking spirit away towards one of the gates.
PERCY:
(Worried, a bit scared)
Where are they taking him?
GROVER:
(Gulps)
FIELDS OF PUNISHMENT, probably. The Furies will set up whatever punishment the judges decide on.
As the kids slowly approach the gates, they hear the howling sound again, but still can’t see where it is coming from. As they get closer to the gates, a huge, a shadowy figure slowly becomes visible, and starts to form the dark, transparent shape of a massive three-headed dog, towering over them, growling.
PERCY:
(Petrified)
H-he’s a rottweiler?
ANNABETH:
(Slowly turns head towards PERCY)
Wow, PERCY. There is, standing in front of us, a three-headed dog twice the size of an elephant, with teeth the size of cinder blocks, and more than likely wants to make us his midnight snack, and the first thing you think to say is, “He’s a rottweiler”?
PERCY:
(Awkward)
I’m just trying to ease the tension.
The kids slowly approach CERBERUS, and notice the giant dog is becoming more visible.
PERCY:
(Curious)
I’m starting to see him better… why?
ANNABETH:
(Gulps, scared)
Well… it’s probably because we’re becoming closer to death.
CERBERUS stoops one of his heads, and begins sniffing.
PERCY:
(Grim)
He can smell the living.
GROVER:
(Trembling with fear)
Yeah. B-b-but it’s okay, cuz we g-g-gotta plan, right?
ANNABETH:
(Small, quiet, terrified)
Yeah. Th-th-the plan.
The kids inch closer the CERBERUS, and the three-headed dog barks so loud, the world seems to shake.
PERCY:
GROVER? Translation?
GROVER:
I, uh, don’t think humans have a four letter word that translates exactly.
PERCY reaches into his backpack, pulling out a broken bedpost.
PERCY:
(Nervous, trying to be calm)
H-hey boy, I bet they don’t play with you much down here, huh?
CERBERUS lets out a thunderous bark.
PERCY:
(Gulps)
G-good boy…
(Waves the stick around)
Y-you see the stick?
CERBERUS’S middle head follows the stick, the other two heads fixed directly on PERCY.
PERCY:
Fetch!
PERCY throws the bedpost, and CERBERUS watches it, unflinching. The stick disappears into the gloom, and splashes into the River Styx. CERBERUS turns his three heads back onto the kids, and growls menacingly.
GROVER:
Um, PERCY?
PERCY:
Yeah?
GROVER:
Just thought you should know, CERBERUS says we have ten seconds to pray to the god of our choice before we become Cerby snacks.
CERBERUS begins snarling, saliva dripping from his three jaws, and ANNABETH’S eyes get wide.
ANNABETH:
Wait! I have an idea.
(Start rifling through backpack)
CERBERUS gets into an attack position.
GROVER:
Um, so I’m thinking maybe we should run now?
ANNABETH:
(Frantically looking through backpack)
Hold on!
CERBERUS roars, and starts to lunge forward when ANNABETH whips a red rubber ball out of her backpack, and the giant dog stops mid lunge, curious.
ANNABETH:
See the ball, boy? You want the ball? Sit!
CERBERUS cocks his heads, confused.
ANNABETH:
(Assertive)
Sit!
To PERCY and GROVER’S surprise, CERBERUS sits, crushing several spirits, who pass through him, shouting angrily in some sort of gibberish.
ANNABETH:
(Pleased)
Good boy!
ANNABETH throws the ball, which CERBERUS catches in his middle mouth. The other two heads start snapping at the ball.
ANNABETH:
Drop it!
CERBERUS whimpers, and gently drops the ball at ANNABETH’S feet, almost bitten in half and covered in slobber.
ANNABETH:
(Picks up ball)
Good boy.
(Glances back at PERCY and GROVER)
Go. EZ DEATH line, it’s faster.
PERCY:
(Worried, hesitant)
But-
ANNABETH:
Go!
PERCY and GROVER reluctantly start inching forward, CERBERUS growls.
ANNABETH:
Stay! You want the ball? Then stay!
PERCY:
(Worried)
What about you?
ANNABETH:
(Slightly nervous)
I know what I’m doing, PERCY. Kinda.
PERCY and GROVER cautiously walk under the giant dog’s legs.
ANNABETH:
Good dog!
ANNABETH throws the ball to CERBERUS, and quickly walks under him while the three heads fight over the ball.
PERCY:
(Impressed)
How’d you do that?
ANNABETH:
(Catching breath)
Obedience school. When I was really little, my dad got a doberman, and-
GROVER:
(Urgent)
Dudes, less talking, more running.
The kids bolt for the EZ DEATH line, and ANNABETH stops when she hears CERBERUS whining behind her. She turns around to face him, and sees the giant dog panting, the ball torn to bits at his feet.
PERCY:
(Worried)
ANNABETH?
ANNABETH:
(Shaky voice, sad smile)
Good boy. I’ll bring you another ball soon. Would you like that?
CERBERUS whines, and lower his three heads.
ANNABETH:
(Petting CERBERUS’S head, holding back tears)
G-good boy. I’ll visit you, okay? I… I promise.
PERCY:
(Sad, hesitant)
ANNABETH… we have to go.
ANNABETH sadly walks away from CERBERUS, and passes through the EZ DEATH line with the boys. As they walk through the metal detector, alarms begin blaring, and CERBERUS starts barking.
AUTOMATED VOICE:
Unauthorized possessions! Magic items detected!
PERCY:
(Urgent)
Run!
The kids run through the gate into the FIELDS OF ASPHODEL, pushing through disgruntled spirits as black robed ghoulish security guards chase after them, shrieking and wailing. The kids scramble down the ridge of a road, and hide in the rotten trunk of a large, black tree. The ghouls run past the tree, still wailing and shrieking. The kids stay in the trunk for a bit to make sure the ghouls are gone.
GROVER:
Your plans suck, dude.
PERCY:
(Irritated)
Yeah, well, you’re a donkey.
(Takes quick look around the corner to make sure it’s safe)
Alright, they’re gone. We should-
PERCY stops mid-sentence when he notices ANNABETH sniffing and wiping tears from her eyes, and hears CERBERUS howling mournfully in the distance.
PERCY:
(Gently places hands on ANNABETH’S shoulders)
Come on. We have to get out of here.
ANNABETH nods, wiping the last of the tears from her eyes, and takes PERCY’S hand.
​
Part 2 will be out soon.
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Ranking All UFC Events Via Their Reported Attendance Numbers!

Ranking - Event - Location @ Venue - Attendance

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