Percy Jackson's Greek Gods (Percy Jackson and the Olympians companion #5.5) - Rick Riordan Page 0,54

painful death, requires a signature. Are you Sisyphus?”

Sisyphus tried to hide his panic. “Um…Why, yes! Come in! Just let me get a pen.”

As Thanatos ducked under the low doorway, Sisyphus grabbed the nearest heavy object he could find—a stone pestle he used to grind his flour—and smacked the god of death over the head.

Thanatos passed out cold. Sisyphus tied him up, gagged him, and stuffed him under the bed. When Mrs. Sisyphus came home, she was like, “Why is there a giant black wing sticking out from under the bed?”

Sisyphus explained what had happened. His wife wasn’t pleased.

“This is going to get us both into trouble,” she said. “You should have just died.”

“I love you, too,” Sisyphus muttered. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

It wasn’t fine. Without Thanatos on the job, people stopped dying. At first, nobody objected. If you were supposed to die and you didn’t, why would you complain?

Then a big battle happened between two Greek cities, and Ares, the god of war, got suspicious. He hovered over the battlefield like he always did, ready for an exciting day of carnage. When the two armies clashed, no soldiers fell. They just kept whaling on each other, hacking each other to bits. Things got messy, with plenty of blood and gore, but no one died.

“Where’s Death?” Ares screamed. “This is no fun without Death!”

He flew from the battlefield and started asking all around the world: “Excuse me, have you seen Death? Big guy with black feathery wings? Likes to reap souls?”

Finally somebody mentioned that they’d seen a guy like that heading toward old man Sisyphus’s house.

Ares broke down Sisyphus’s front door. He pushed the old dude aside and spotted Thanatos’s left wing sticking out from under the bed. Ares pulled out the god of death, brushed off the dust bunnies, and cut his bonds. Then both gods glared at Sisyphus.

Sisyphus backed into the corner. “Um, look, guys, I can explain—”

BOOM!

Ares and Thanatos vaporized him with a double blast of godly wrath.

Once Sisyphus’s soul found its way to the Underworld, Sisyphus somehow managed to get an audience with Hades himself.

The old man bowed before the god’s throne. “Lord Hades, I know I did a bad thing. I’m ready to face my punishment. But my wife! She didn’t do the proper funeral rites for me! How can I enjoy eternal damnation knowing that the missus didn’t honor the gods with sacrifices as you have commanded? Please, just allow me to return to the world long enough to scold my wife. I’ll come straight back.”

Hades frowned. Of course he was suspicious, but he’d always been under the impression that spirits couldn’t lie. (He was wrong.) Also, Sisyphus’s story filled him with outrage. Hades hated it when people didn’t take funeral rites seriously. And sacrifices to the gods? Those were even more important!

“Fine,” Hades said. “Go scold your wife, but don’t take too long. When you get back, I’ll have a special punishment ready for you.”

“I can’t wait!” Sisyphus said.

So his spirit returned to the world. He found his vaporized remains and somehow got them back together into a regular body. You can imagine his wife’s surprise when Sisyphus walked in the front door, alive as ever. “Honey, I’m home!”

After his wife woke up from fainting, Sisyphus told her the story of how he cleverly escaped death yet again.

His wife was not amused. “You can’t cheat Hades forever,” she warned. “You’re asking for trouble.”

“I’ve already been condemned to the Fields of Punishment,” Sisyphus said. “What do I have to lose? Besides, Hades is busy. He sees thousands of souls every day. He won’t even know I’m gone.”

For years, Sisyphus’s plan actually worked. He kept a low profile. He stayed at home most of the time, and when he had to go out, he wore a fake beard. Hades was busy. He forgot all about Sisyphus, until one day Thanatos happened to ask: “Hey, what’d you ever do to that creep who stuffed me under his bed?”

“Oh…” Hades frowned. “Whoops.”

This time, Hades sent the messenger god Hermes to look for Sisyphus. Hermes wore a helmet, so he couldn’t get whacked over the head so easily. The messenger god dragged Sisyphus back to the Underworld and threw him at the foot of Hades’s throne.

Hades smiled coldly. “Lie to me, will you? Oh, I have something very special for you!”

He took Sisyphus to the middle of the Fields of Punishment, to a barren hill five hundred feet high with sides that sloped at forty-five degrees, just perfect