The Iliad, by Homer. You’ve got heroes, gods, an epic battle, and me, Achilles, the greatest warrior who ever lived. But let’s clear some things up. First, I didn’t ask to be part of this drama. This whole mess started because of a beauty contest. That’s right, a beauty contest between goddesses. I was out there trying to live my best warrior life, and the next thing I knew, a golden apple was thrown into the mix, and Paris, the biggest idiot in all of Troy, chose Aphrodite as the winner. His prize? He got to steal Helen, the most beautiful woman alive, from Menelaus of Sparta. And just like that, ten years of war began. Thanks a lot, Paris.

So here we were, the Greeks, trying to besiege Troy. And let me tell you, ten years was a long time to be stuck outside a city throwing spears at walls. I was supposed to be out there fighting, but then this guy, Agamemnon (the so-called “king of kings”), stole my prize—a girl I won fair and square. Now, I was a hero, but I had my pride. So, what did I do? I went on strike. Yeah, that’s right. No Achilles in battle until Agamemnon realized you don’t mess with the best.

While I was kicking back in my tent, the Trojans, especially Hector, their golden boy, started feeling pretty bold. He was out there winning battles, but honestly, I could have crushed him at any point if I hadn’t been on strike. And my best buddy, Patroclus, decided he was going to borrow my armor and pretend to be me. Not a bad plan, except for the fact that he got himself killed. By whom? Hector, of course. Then I had to go back into battle, not because of some epic destiny, but because Hector killed my friend while I was busy sulking.

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And, oh boy, did I get revenge. I chased Hector around the city three times before he was like, “Okay, fine, let’s fight.” We dueled, and of course, I totally won. But was I satisfied? Nah, I dragged his body around for a while just to make a point. Petty? Maybe. But this was war.

Meanwhile, the gods were all up there, sticking their noses into everything. Zeus, Apollo, Athena, they were constantly meddling. It was like they had a cosmic remote control, and every time things got interesting, they changed the channel. Could they just let me handle business? No, that would have been too easy.

Finally, Hector’s dad, Priam, sneaked into my camp one night, all dramatic, begging for his son’s body back. And, well, what could I say? The guy was old, and I wasn’t a total monster. I gave it back. The war dragged on, but my part? It was done. They don’t tell you this in the legends, but all I wanted was to hang out with my pal Patroclus, live my warrior life, and maybe enjoy a nice cup of wine. Instead, I got stuck in this ridiculous saga because some guy couldn’t keep his hands off another guy’s wife.

So, what’s the moral of the story? Don’t steal someone else’s girl, don’t mess with Achilles’ honor, and if you’re going to start a war, maybe don’t let a beauty contest be the trigger. Oh, and always check your heels.

The end.