Honoring The Heroes On The Hill

Normally, Modern Philosophers, when I return to The House on the Hill after a long day at work to discover people all over my porch, I am not thrilled.

Today, however, was an exception. As soon as I noticed the emblems on the uniforms of my guests, I was honored to play host and mad at myself for not getting home sooner.

It was The Devil, my most frequent uninvited house guest, who explained to me what was happening.

“In honor of the September 11th Anniversary, you are hosting a barbecue for the heroes who must never be forgotten,” Lucifer explained as he walked me up to the front porch. “Don’t you worry, I am making sure that it is a excruciating day in Hell for all those responsible for the tragic events of that day.”

For once, I took comfort in knowing that The Prince of Darkness was making sure that unspeakable things were being done to those in his eternal care.

I made my way onto the front porch and shook hands with members of the NYPD, FDNY, and Port Authority Police. My Otherworldly Friends had seen to it that transportation had been provided to get these Heroes to Maine.

Seamus and Ti-Diana waved to me from the grill where they were cooking up hamburgers, red hot dogs, chicken, and steak for my honored guests.

I went inside to find more men and women eating, drinking, and chatting. Many of them were gathered around a giant bubbling cauldron in my dining room, where Waltzing Matilda and Volcanica Ivy were serving up frothing glasses of a concoction that they had dubbed “Heroes’ Brew”.

“Welcome to The Heroes on the Hill,” The Devil yelled in my ear so that he could be heard over the din of the gathered. “Mayor McCheese is down in the basement running some sort of old school speakeasy and telling tales of life under the Golden Arches.”

I was curious about what was going on up on the second floor because I kept hearing excited chatter. “The Aliens are beaming up the guests for rides aboard the Mothership. They’re taking people all over the Galaxy, and then they’re hanging out upstairs exchanging stories.”

In the Attic, my resident Ghosts, the Woodbury Family, were playing host to a series of more famous Ghosts. “I hear Edgar Allan Poe was just up there doing a reading,” Satan filled me in on the happenings under my roof. “Elvis and Jim Morrison did a set together. Alexander the Great gave an awesome speech on conquering the world.”

What about the roof? “The bravest and finest men and women of New York are screaming like little school kids as Gary the Gargoyle and some of the friendlier Flying Monkeys take them for a flight over Brewer and Bangor.”

Wow. There had to be close to 500 bodies stuffed into The House on the Hill, and every one of those beings was laughing and having the grandest time.

I was done with the tour and needed to get involved. So I worked my way back out to the front porch, stopping only to shake hands and offer my gratitude to the Heroes I encountered along the way. Once I was outside, I invoked Executive Privilege and took control of the grill. This Modern Philosopher was going to feed his Heroes.

I don’t know how many mouths I fed tonight. Every time I thought we were out of meat, Ti-Diana would utter a few words, and the grill was magically covered again.

My favorite part of it all was hearing the stories the Heroes wanted to share. I hung on every word and had to shush Seamus dozens of times so he wouldn’t drown out their tales with his awful singing and limerick telling.

In the end, I had forgotten what had made it such a long day at work, and wished that the evening could go on forever. I know this is a sad anniversary, but it can also be one to celebrate if done correctly and shared with the right company.