Oh. Hiya, kid. Didn't see ya there at first—could you at least warn me next time ya leap outta the bushes unexpectedly like that? Third time this week my Nymphs Gone Wild session's been so rudely interrupted, and believe me, those gals do not take kindly to intruders!

Aah, you wanna story 'bout heroes? Figures. Ever since Herc made it big he's been talk of the town, and not to kid around wit'cha, but so have I. People look up and see those stars, they say "That's Phil's boy!" and lemme tell ya, this old goat's eyes get misty every time no matter how many times they say it. Never gets old! Which is good, cause I ain't exactly a spring chicken.

Yeah, before Herc came along my life was a big long string of disappointment. Thing about satyrs is we gotta have purpose if we're gonna make it in life, and even as a tyke I knew what mine was—Philoctetes, trainer of heroes and all that jazz. I even got a certificate to prove my worth and everythin', and lemme tell ya, in Greece ya either train, or be trained on, if you get what I mean.

So the first rookie that came along was some kid named Jason, or as I called him Mr. Jay-Jay. (Yeesh, I cringe thinkin' back on how dumb that sounded. Poor kid.) He's on some quest for some fleece or whatever, he didn't tell and I wasn't in the business of askin'. Was a bit of a greenhorn myself, if you can believe it. So anyway, Jay needs a guy to teach him how to sail this big ol' boat, the Argo, so he can go shear some sheep or whatever. I told him this is a hero course, not some nautical nonsense, but the kid gives me puppy dog eyes and oy am I a sucker for puppy dog eyes.

So Jason learned the ropes with some convincing, and before you knew it he was sailing, sailing over the bounding main and straight into the maw of disaster. See, what Jason didn't know—and you betta believe I tried to warn him—was that the island he was headed to was fulla Sirens. If you don't know your Sirens, well, let's just say these songbirds ain't the friendliest monsters around. Once their song gets in ya it never gets out, and before you know it you're 3 feet underwater and 6 feet under the ground.

So I told the kid, hey, I know a guy who knows a guy who knows Orpheus. Yeah, the Orpheus, hottest singer in Greece, sold-out concerts and all that. (He gave me a complimentary T-shirt once, but that's a story for anotha time.) I says, "Listen, Jay, if you want any chance against those Sirens you gotta get this guy on board! It's your only shot." But did Jason listen? Noooooo! Last I heard he sailed that Argo straight into a cliff wall, and those Sirens got a new professional foot massager. Some hero he turned out ta be, huh? Least he had the puppy dog eyes going for him. (Probably why he didn't go down with the ship…)

So Jason couldn't cut it. No big deal, I thought. I was still young, naïve, and blindly optimistic that somewhere out there was the right kinda guy. I thought I mighta found it in Perseus. The kid was blessed by the gods from the start, and from what I saw he was more than just blessed—ol' Percy was one of Zeus's many kids, with the strength to match! What, you thought Herc was the only one? Let's just say Mr. High-And-Mighty, ah, threw his thunderbolts wherever he pleased when not doin' Zeus-y stuff like judgin' mortal transgressions and the like. (Nope, not explaining that one, kids. Go ask your parents if ya want the details. Gods, how does Hera stand it…)

Anyway, Perseus was on a quest to slay the Gorgon Medusa, whose eyes could turn people to stone. But it wasn't for the glory or anythin' like that; it was to save his mommy from marrying some evil king. Classic hero stuff, and unlike some people he actually listened to my advice, at least at the start. One of which was the classic "If ya can't stand the heat, stay outta the kitchen!" Okay, that mighta been when the poor kid tried to make dinner that one time. Percy was nice but a terrible cook.

So! Training, right. Perseus had the strength, sure, but his stamina was a no-go. Poor kid got winded from a 100-meter dash, and then the 50-yard dash! Took all I could to help the poor kid gain some endurance, and by then he was raring to go fight that Medusa to save mom. I tried warning him, "Listen, kid! Ya got a good heart, but your training's not complete yet!" But Percy thought that just cause he had Hermes' sandals, Hades' helmet, and a shield from Athena that he'd be fine and dandy, and before I could stop him he took to the skies.

Poor Perseus. Just wanted to save his mom, and he became one of Medusa's prized lawn ornaments instead, in the 'fallen heroes' section. You could hear Hades' creepy cackle all the way up from the Underworld, and lemme tell ya, nothing sends a shiver up your spine like the God of the Dead in a good mood. (Maybe he was happy Medusa brought that hat back in one piece—I dunno and I don't wanna know.)

So two heroes down and who knew how many to go. I figured, hey, third time's the charm, right? Odysseus, now that guy had a brain on his shoulders! Guy was so clever he tricked me into helping train him. Seems there was a war going on, and he didn't wanna go. He thought if I spent enough time training him for the fight, the war would be over by then and everythin' would be hunky-dory.

Yeah, that didn't work out. But hey! The guy survived the war just fine, and all he had to do now was go on home. You'd think that'd be easy, but ya remember how I said he was clever? Well, turns out his crew…weren't the brightest bulbs in the bunch, if ya get my drift. Odysseus had this magic bag of winds to help them get home faster, as long as it was never to be opened.

Now I didn't witness this travesty firsthand, but Hermes told me they were literal inches away from home when some moron decided "Ooh, I wonder what's in this bag he told us never to open!" Whoosh! Blown off-course for years. It's a wonder he didn't pack it in then and there. Hero Rule #37: Idiots can always thwart a clever plan.

Not that Odysseus wasn't dumb sometimes himself. Picture this: You and your (stupid) crew wash up on an island! No life in sight except for something in a cave. Turns out the whole place is infested with Cyclopses—big, nasty one-eyed brutes with a habit of eatin' any passers-by! Now even Odysseus's crew knew he was bad news, so Odysseus came up with a plan: They blind him while he's asleep, steal food, and skedaddle! And it went off without a hitch…is what I'd like to tell you, and boy, this one's all on Odysseus. Seems ol' Brainiac couldn't resist one last taunt, and told the angry giant his name as they were running. Because nothing says 'too cocky for your own good' quite like yellin' "Oh, and that guy who blinded and robbed ya? Totally me, Odysseus!" to everyone in a 50-mile radius.

See, that Cyclops knew guys, who knew guys, and it went up the chain of command until it reached mighty Poseidon, god of the sea, earthquakes, horses, and thankfully not goats (that's Pan). And just like his brothers Zeus and Hades, Poseidon is not the kinda guy you wanna tick off. Oh, he may have water on the brain, but when he gets steamed up Hades might have competition. The waves crashed and thundered against their ship for days, and last I heard from Hermes, Odysseus never made it home—stuck on some island with a nymph named Calypso while his family wonders where the heck he went. (Any chance I could trade ya, Ody? No? Dangit.)

So third time was far from the charm, and I was getting discouraged, when who should come along but Theseus. What the guy lacked in tact he made up for in established cred; he was the King of Athens, which is a pretty big deal among mortals, and slew some bandits along the way to my first-come-first-serve trainin' session. His story was that he was gonna slay the Minotaur—you heard that right, the same man-eatin' beast that terrorized Crete for ages! I helped him hone his puzzle-solving skills, cause the Minotaur lived in one monster of a maze.

But a labyrinth was nothin' compared to the man-eater that was waitin' for him: Ariadne. Two words: Heap of trouble! She fell in love with our hero at first sight, and even though she was the Minotaur's sister, she was willin' to risk it all for the sake of Theseus's love. Now me, I was suspicious, but Theseus? Head-over-heels. Nothin' I said got through to him when that dame was involved. The argument got nasty, so when she gave him a ball o' yarn to enter the maze with, he went on without me.

Now, as you might have guessed, Theseus didn't quite make it outta there in one piece. Turns out Ariadne wasn't quite as willing to go against her brother like he thought—Aphrodite coulda taught ya love takes time—and it was a trap from the start. Theseus made it through the maze, brandished his sword, and got manhandled worse than what Ariadne did to his heart. (Made for some nice crockery, though; the image even changes when you spin it.)

So with four failures and no wins at all under my belt I'm feeling pretty low, not to mention up in my years. And that's when he arrived: Achilles.

Lemme tell ya, kid, of everyone I trained before Herc I felt the most hope with this guy. Footwork, strength, speed—he had everything, including a good head on his shoulders, and for the life of me I couldn't find a weakness! And the guy had a healthy relationship with Patroclus, some boyfriend he'd met when they were kids or somethin'. I wasn't into that mushy stuff, but it warmed my satyr heart to see those two together, and hey—means he didn't have a weakness of the heart, either, at least from what I saw. Any arguments those two had were patched up by dinnertime.

But as for why I was trainin' this guy to begin with? Join the army, they said, and Achilles wanted to serve alongside Pat when the Trojans came marchin' into Greece. I helped get him in tip-top shape for the battle, and as those trumpets sounded you betta believe I cheered him on. Sure, there was some prophecy that said he'd either live in obscurity or die in glory, but who pays attention to those? He was confident he'd come home a hero.

…But I wouldn't be tellin' ya this story if he did, now would I?

Picture it: the noise of battle, swords, spears, and chariots flying on all sides! And where's Achilles in all this mess? Cooped up in his tent throwin' a temper tantrum over stolen treasure. Lemme tell ya, material things look pretty, but they ain't worth squat in the end—especially if it costs you the one dearest to you. See, when Achilles was pouting in his tent, the war was still goin' outside, and the Greeks were losing! So Pat decides, hey, Achilles is the strongest, coolest guy we have, right? If I dressed up like him, it'd raise morale and maybe get that big lug outta his tent and out here in the fight!

And it worked! For about five seconds. Some kid on the other side, Hector, got suspicious when "Achilles" didn't have the finesse I trained into him, and got the imposter with a spear to the gut. And just like that, Patroclus was dead, and Achilles…well, if you've seen Hades angry, it's nothin' like what the kid brought to the field. He singlehandedly turned the tide of the war, trampled over Hector, and dragged him around the whole city in vengeance. Ares himself would've quaked before his rage, and the city likewise.

But remember that prophecy about dying in glory?

It turned out Achilles had a weakness after all, and not just from losing his boyfriend. Seems his rampage after the death of Pat was so great his sandals were shorn from his body! Not a big deal, but wouldn't ya know it, his ankle—more specifically the heel—was ripe for the picking. And that's just what that no-good Paris did, with a poison-tipped arrow. Troy fell all right, but so did Achilles—and when he fell, so did my hopes.

You need a tissue? Here ya go—sorry, kid. They can't all be funny.

So yeah, after Achilles, that was it. No more training for me. I found my island, far away from any nosy neighbors or would-be heroes, and that was where I stayed, until Herc arrived. Now I'm livin' the good life! People just like you linin' up to get autographs, hear stories by yours truly, and sayin' "Hey, I know that guy! You trained Hercules!"

And sure, I trained Hercules. You probably know all about that. But what I'd forgotten, and what he helped me remember, was that dreams weren't for rookies. Givin' up was for rookies, and he went the distance time and time again, to the Underworld and back, even. Not to get sentimental, but if not for him I'd still be a washed-out satyr chasin' nymphs. (Now I don't need to chase 'em—they chase me!)

So you want a point to all this? I guess what I'm sayin' is, even if you fail, don't lose hope. You never know when the push you need to do better, be better, is just around the corner. And just like Herc, growin' into a hero takes time, effort, and heart—but if you got the will, kid, you got the way.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna get back to Nymphs Gone Wild. Helloooo, ladies…