The Lightning Fart: A Parody of The Lightning Thief (Percy Jackson & the Olympians, Book 1)

For the next few weeks things were really weird. Everybody at school kept saying there was never a Mrs. Dodds, but I knew there’d been a Mrs. Dodds and that she’d attacked me. Also, people were farting way more than usual.

But I just tried to roll with it, hoping that one day I’d wake up and everything would be back to normal. I didn’t have much time to worry about it, anyway, because final exams were approaching and they were gonna be a major issue. To keep my scholarship to Yancy I needed to get at least one B- or above, and I’d been counting on an easy B- from Mr. Brunner. But Mr. Brunner had recently informed me that his standards for the final exam would be higher than for the rest of the year, and that I had to actually study if I wanted to get my B-.

The day before Mr. Brunner’s final I sat on my bed with my Cambridge Guide to the Greek Gods trying to study, but it wasn’t working. I couldn’t spend another second trying to take the plastic off the new book and open it. Finally, I chucked the book across the room. I had to face reality: there was no way I was getting a B- without some help.

So I did the thing students do when they’re too lazy to study but want to make themselves feel like they’re doing something: I went to Mr. Brunner’s office hours. For the week before the final Mr. Brunner sat in his office from 3 to 5 every day, and anyone could come and ask him questions. I headed over to Mr. Brunner’s office, but when I was just a few steps outside the door, I heard Grover inside talking to Mr. Brunner…and they were talking about me.

“You really think it’s true?” said Grover.

“He defeated Mrs. Dodds with his fart!” said Mr. Brunner. “Only one god could give him that kind of power.”

“I guess you’re right,” said Grover. “And also, that would explain why he farted 30 times on the bus ride to school the other day.”

What, was 30 farts out of the ordinary? My personal record on the ride to school was 72.

“We can’t tell him yet, though,” said Mr. Brunner.

“But we have to!” said Grover. “The summer solstice deadline is approaching, and we need his help!”

“He’s not ready yet,” said Mr. Brunner. “For now, let’s just concern ourselves with keeping him alive.”

Keeping him alive? Was my life in danger? Hearing this made me nervous…so of course, I farted. It was such a loud fart that it rattled the walls, which wasn’t that unusual for my farts.

Mr. Brunner’s office went silent, and a large shadow appeared in the window on the office door—a shadow much taller than a human. The door started to open, so I dashed into another office and hid under a desk.

A couple seconds later I heard a slow clop-clop-clop, and I peeked out the doorway to see four hooves.

“No one’s here!” said Mr. Brunner’s voice from the hall.

“Dude, just admit it was you who farted,” said Grover.

“He who smelt it dealt it!” said Mr. Brunner.

The hooves clopped back to the office and the argument about who farted continued. As soon as I heard the door close, I ran away.

When I got back to my dorm, questions filled my head: What was it they couldn’t tell me? Why were they worried about keeping me alive? Was Mr. Brunner keeping a horse in his office? If so, had he trained it to grade quizzes?

I couldn’t let these questions distract me, however, because the final exam was tomorrow. So I put the questions aside, played video games for six hours, and went to bed.

The next day as I was walking out of the final, my eyes swimming from all the white space on the answers I’d left blank on the test, Mr. Brunner called me back inside.

“Percy,” he said, flipping through my largely blank exam, “I think we both know you’re going to lose your scholarship. But I just wanted to tell you that you shouldn’t worry too much about this. Yancy just isn’t the right place for you.”

“Because I have special powers?” I asked.

“No, because you’re such a terrible student that there’s literally no school that’s right for you,” he said. “But who knows, maybe there are other reasons, too.”

I headed back to my dorm room and packed my bags with dread. Now I was gonna have to go back to New York City and tell Mom I’d lost my scholarship. And on top of that, I had to find a job for the summer. I wondered if there were any jobs that involved playing video games and doing nothing.

I walked out of Yancy without even turning to wave goodbye and headed to the train station, where I boarded my train to Manhattan. A minute later I was surprised to see Grover get on the same train and sit down next to me.

“Percy! What a nice surprise!” he said. Yeah, right. Grover claimed he’d “coincidentally” booked a ticket on the same train, but it was obvious this was more than coincidence and that Grover was one of those friends who wants to hang out all the time. That’s when they stop being your friend, and start being creepy.

I initially planned on giving Grover the silent treatment during the bus ride, hoping he’d get the message. But I was dying to get more info about what he and Mr. Brunner were discussing in Mr. Brunner’s office. So finally, I said something.

“Can you believe the summer solstice deadline’s right around the corner?” I said.

Grover’s eyes went wide. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!” he said. “Also, I never told Mr. Brunner we needed you to help us, and Mr. Brunner never told me we had to worry about keeping you alive.”

“Grover, you’re a really bad liar,” I said.

He sighed sadly and took a bite out of the seat upholstery. “Look Percy, the truth is, I kinda have this job to protect you.”

Ohhhhh, boy. Not only was he stalking me, he thought he was “protecting” me. If I didn’t cut this off now, the summer was gonna be a 24/7 stalkfest.

“Thanks for your concern,” I said, “but I don’t need any extra protection. I’ll be perfectly fine on my own.”

“Then please just take this,” Grover said, handing me a business card. “If you need me any time during the summer, just call.”

I looked down at the card.

G-Man

Professional massage

Serving humans, gods, and goats

1-555-TOUCH-ME

“And this is supposed to protect me how?” I asked.

Grover looked at the card and quickly snatched it back. “Sorry, wrong card,” he said, and handed me another one.

Grover Underwood

Keeper

Half-Wit Hill

Long Island, New York

1-555-TOUCH-ME

“I still don’t get it,” I said. “What exactly are you supposed to be protecting me from?”

Suddenly there was a loud grinding noise beneath our feet, and the train slowed to a halt. The conductor came on over the intercom: “Sorry folks, there’s gonna be a slight delay while we check the issue with the train.”

We sat looking out the windows as they inspected the train. There wasn’t much around, except a house across the tracks with three old ladies sitting on the porch. I looked more closely at the old ladies and saw that they were knitting a single pair of Frozen-themed underwear, which had Elsa, Olaf, and all the other characters on it. In general I didn’t mind all the different Frozen products, but this seemed to be taking it a little too far.

One of the old ladies then took out a huge pair of gold scissors, looked right at me, and cut the thread that was being used to knit the underwear. I swear I could hear that snip from inside the train.

“Percy, were those old women looking at you?” said Grover.

I nodded.

“Please tell me you didn’t see them cut the thread.”

I said I had. All of the color went out of Grover’s face.

“That means something very baaaaaad’s going to happen,” he said.

“What, is someone gonna have to wear Frozen underwear?”

“No,” Grover said. “Someone’s gonna die.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d rather die than wear Frozen underwear.