Who are you?" he asked.
"I'm a shabti, of course!" The figurine rubbed his dented head. He still looked quite lumpish, only now he was a living lump. "Master calls me Doughboy, though I find the name insulting. You may call me Supreme-Force-Who-Crushes-His-Enemies!
Tell you what," I said. "After the testing after the Demon Days, when things settle down -"
"Things won't settle down."
"- I'm going to take you to the mall."
She blinked. "The mall? For what reason?"
"To hang out," I said. "We'll get some hamburgers. See a movie."
Zia hesitated. "Is this what you'd call a 'date'?"
My expression must have been priceless, because Zia actually cracked a smile. "You look like a cow hit with a shovel.
Our baboon was going completely sky goddess - which is to say, nuts.
Rick RiordanAnother guy barked orders to a small army of brooms, mops, and buckets that were scuttling around, cleaning up the city.
"Like that cartoon," Sadie said. "Where Mickey Mouse tries to do magic and the brooms keep splitting and toting water."
"'The Sorcerer's Apprentice,'" Zia said. "You do know that was based on an Egyptian story, don't you?
What was I up to, you may ask? I certainly didn't want to meet Monsieur Evil again or creepy old Lord Salamander.
Rick RiordanSo you've got no name?" I asked. "They couldn't think of one ugly enough?"
The creature snarled, stepping over the unconscious policeman.
"Set animal is too hard to say," I decided. "I'll call you Leroy."
Apparently, Leroy didn't like his name. He lunged.
Tags: name-calling
Do you give up?" Shezmu bellowed.
"No!" I yelled. "No, we don't give up. We will name you. Just . . . Gosh, you're quite well muscled, arn't you? Do you work out?
I just love family meetings. Very cozy, with the Christmas garlands round the fireplace and a nice pot of tea and a detective from Scotland Yard ready to arrest you.
Rick RiordanLookin up at the huge baboons, I wondered if Khufu had some sort of secret baboon code that would get us in. But instead he barked at the statues and cowered heroically behind my legs.
Rick RiordanI thought maybe she'd whisk us off by magic, or at least hail a taxi. Instead, Bast borrowed a silver Lexus convertible.
"Oh, yes," she purred. "I like this one! Come along, children."
"But this isn't yours," I pointed out.
"My dear, I'm a cat. Everything I see is mine." She touched the ignition and the keyhole sparked. The engine began to purr. [No, Sadie. Not like a cat, like an engine.]
Tags: cats entitlement
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