370: Aesop's Fables: State of Nature

This week on Myths and Legends, we're doing some fables.

A lot of fables, actually.

You'll see why you don't mess with cats ever and why you should let mosquitoes bite you so you don't die.

The creature this time is a very wise dragon that you should go seek out because he's so wise.

Definitely don't think about how he's the one spreading rumors of his wisdom and trying to get essentially free meal delivery.

This is Myths and Legends, episode 370, State of Nature.

This is a podcast where we tell stories from mythology and folklore.

Some are incredibly popular stories you might think you know, but with surprising origins.

Others are tales that might be new to you, but are definitely worth a listen.

Like I said, we're telling some of Aesop's fables this week.

Aesop is a Fabulist, which is the name of someone who writes fables and maybe also my new dream job title.

It probably doesn't count if you adapt fables, so I still have something to strive for.

Aesop, though, probably didn't exist, which would make him a fabulous fabulist.

Wordplay aside, though, very little is known about Aesop's life.

He's said to have lived between 620 and 564 BC, and he does have a legendary origin, which I'll read and see if it's worth telling on this podcast.

Aesop, as the legends go, was an enslaved man who, through his storytelling ability, gained freedom and served as an advisor to kings.

We'll jump in starting with his most famous story, which really just serves as a way to tell all of his other far more interesting fables.

I hear you talking all around the forest that you can beat me in a race.

The hare laughed at the tortoise.

You think you're faster than me?

The hare poked the tortoise's shell and then jumped at the sound in the bushes because a hare is still a prey animal.

No,

obviously I'm not faster than you, the tortoise replied.

That's right, you're not wait.

The hare's shoulders slumped.

Why?

The hare wondered why he was assuming this uncharacteristically antagonistic posture and tone.

Because I said I can beat you in a race, the tortoise said.

Because I can.

No, I'm faster, the hare reiterated.

Yes, the tortoise agreed.

But you said you can beat me in a race.

Also, yes.

The tortoise apparently didn't see those as contradictory.

Well, they are, the hare shook his head.

They were going to settle this once and for all.

They were going to have a race.

I mean, it's kind of punching down, don't you think?

The hedgehog said as she was sitting in a pool of water outside her burrow in that cute way that hedgehogs do.

Really, look up a video, it's adorable.

The hare didn't agree.

If someone challenges him, he needs to answer that challenge, no matter the source.

The hedgehog said, once again, that this type of persistence and aggression was atypical for his species, but onto the more important question, why was he bothering her during bath time?

The hare said he was looking for fox.

No one knew the forest and the surrounding countryside better than Fox, and he could plot a fair course through the trees.

Nothing about this is fair.

That's why I said you're punching down.

He's a tortoise.

The hedgehog waddled from the bath and shook.

She did know where Fox was, though.

Can you go get him?

I'm currently getting the word out.

You have to be your own publicity these days.

I have other things to do.

I need to root through hedges and other undergrowth in search of the small creatures that compose the bulk of my diet.

diet-insects, worms, centipedes, snails, mice, frogs, and snakes, the hedgehog said informatively, as if she was reading from National Geographic, the top hit on Google when you write, What do hedgehogs do all day?

Sorry, can't hear you, gotta go, thanks, the hare said.

The hedgehog shook her head.

Those ears were giant, he heard her.

But she did know where Fox was, and she was needing to take a walk that way anyway.

She shuffled off toward the hedge.

Fox wasn't in the hedge though.

After she finished eating a small snake, which is something that hedgehogs do and looks pretty gross, She saw the fox's telltale claws in the dirt.

They went through the little creek bed.

The claw marks were deep, as if the fox lost his grip.

The hedgehog looked down the green hill to see the fox.

The creature was in a dark, swarming cloud.

The hedgehog, who didn't tuck and roll down the hill because that's not something they do where would we ever get that idea?

She also definitely didn't charge up in one spot and then release in a burst of speed.

Instead, she safely picked her way down the green hill to see the fox.

The mosquitoes that swarmed him moved to the hedgehog, but, like many a predator has found out, those spikes don't make for easy eating.

So they gave up and went back to the fox.

Fox

are you okay?

Hedgehog asked.

Fox looked up.

Oh, hey, hedgehog.

Yeah, he was good.

He just fell down this ravine.

Just taking a minute.

You're being eaten alive by mosquitoes, Hedgehog observed.

Yeah.

Want me to do something about them?

No.

Thanks, though.

Hedgehog explained that it was really no problem.

She hadn't fallen down the ravine, so she could easily just swat them away.

The fox said really he appreciated the offer, but he wasn't just being polite.

You see, he said these flies have been at him a while now, and fight amongst each other for spots between his fur.

But they're satiated, fat with his blood.

If she chased them away, if more came, they would be hungry, and they would feast anew, drinking up all the blood he had left.

So, he said, it is better to bear a lesser evil than to risk a greater one in removing it.

The hedgehog looked up.

Did he was there music just now?

Whatever.

That was a tidy little lesson.

Well, when he had a moment, and if he survived, Hare and Tortoise were racing, and they wanted Fox to plot a course through the forest and the surrounding countryside and all that.

Hare is racing tortoise?

Kind of punching down, isn't it?

Fox painfully lifted his head.

Hedgehog raised her own paws.

Hey, don't get her started.

The point has already been made and ignored by hair.

He really didn't need any help though.

She kind of felt bad leaving him in a ditch.

Fox said thanks, but really, he was good.

As Hedgehog climbed the bank, she said, you know what?

They should hang out more.

Hedgehog and a fox?

That'd be sounds like a fun, marketable pair.

Hedgehog waddled back, picking up a snail and a grub on her detour through the swamp.

Psst, hey, spear rat, she heard from a nearby pile of leaves.

Hedgehog turned.

Were they talking to her?

Two eyes opened up in the shadows, and Hedgehog ambled over.

I'm not a rat, she said to the frog.

The frog said he couldn't be expected to tell the difference between all mammals.

Hey, was the shadow still there?

The hedgehog looked up to the sky to the bird flying all around.

Uh, if that's what he meant, then yes.

This is bad, this is real bad.

All we wanted was a king, the frog croaked.

Sounds like there's a story there.

The hedgehog was somewhat sympathetic, but also this was the animal kingdom.

Creatures died all the time.

Even Fox wouldn't have hesitated to devour her should he have the opportunity.

So yeah.

It was hard, but it was hard for everyone, so we called out to Jupiter for a king and he granted it, the frog cried out, draping his slimy frog hand over his forehead and prompting a cutaway flashback.

Jupiter, aka Zeus, the king of the gods from Greek myth, and I know how we've talked about how Zeus and Jupiter are not the same, and they're not, except when they're used interchangeably, like in certain public domain versions of the story.

You see, Aesop was Greek from the 6th and 7th century BC, so he absolutely would have said Zeus.

But the 19th century AD Latin bro translators decided that it should really be Jupiter because, you know, Rome, and here we are.

Getting back to the story though, Zeus listened to all of about 45 seconds of the 10-minute long plea on the part of the frogs.

They wanted a king and probably other stuff he didn't know.

They were frogs.

What did it matter what they wanted?

There was a long silence, which Zeus guessed meant that the talk was over, and then he sighed, yeah, done, whatever.

You have your king.

The frogs looked at each other and looked at Zeus, bowing low and croaking, thank you.

Go back to your pond or swamp or wherever it is you live, and I'll designate your king, Zeus said.

Hermes fluttered to his side.

That was magnanimous of Zeus, uncharacteristically generous, to grant their request without Zeus laughed as he picked up the log, and Hermes must have realized that it wasn't that kind of Zeus.

Watch, watch, watch, watch.

I'm gonna get one of'em.

He chucked the log down into the pond from the top of Olympus.

Zeus clapped and rocked back.

Yes, direct hit.

That frog is gone.

Oh, they're terrified of their new log king.

I'll look at them mourning that frog.

Zeus shrugged.

He was bored now.

The boredom, though, morphed into rage when, following up on the frog king log tyrant, Zeus glanced down into the swamp a few days later and

What are they doing to their king?

Zeus screamed.

Hermes squinted.

Oh,

oh no.

In the past few days, the frogs realized that the log wasn't some tyrant king from on high, sent down in judgment against them, but

a log.

Just a log.

It sat motionless atop the water.

It didn't proclaim laws or advance the dominion of the frog empire or, most importantly, give them pomp and royalty they could enjoy, because their sad frog lives were boring, as one translation tells us.

So they gave it the respect they thought it deserved.

They're they're rubbing their butts on it, sir, Hermes said.

And they were.

They were squatting on the log in defiance and rubbing their butts.

It was all very profane.

So, when the second frog delegation arrived, demanding to be heard, a smile curled on Zeus's face.

They wanted a king, did they?

One who would do more than be a literal log?

Fine.

He would give them what they asked for.

The frog said that that was fantastic.

Nothing to read into there.

We'll see that it's always a good idea to make a deal with Zeus, but that will be right after this.

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I never wanted this job anyway, the eel communicated via his frog messengers.

A few days later, the frogs had, once again, arrived on Olympus with a complaint.

The eel wasn't doing anything, just hanging out in those little holes in the bottom of the pond, complaining that he never wanted to be king.

He wasn't giving them the show of royalty they wanted.

He was just hanging out in his basement, complaining.

So they were up on Olympus complaining, and they wouldn't leave until Zeus appointed them a legitimate king.

Zeus, having cosmic-level problems to deal with, and once again bored of the frogs and their sad little lives, said, okay,

he would send a king of frogland who would be an active one.

Wear a crown and be a true king.

We actually didn't know what a heron was, the frog said to the hedgehog, back in the present story.

Cowering behind the leaf, He arrived wearing a tiny crown and was so tall and majestic.

Then he started eating the frogs.

They went back to Zeus, well, what members of the frog delegation survived all the way to Olympus, with their king flying over them, but Zeus could only laugh when they croaked that he needed to take away this cruel tyrant before they were all destroyed.

Zeus shook his head, asking them if they were content now.

They had what they wanted, and they only had themselves to blame for their misfortune.

So, the frog cleared his throat, you should be sure you can better your condition before you seek to change it.

That's the lesson here?

Hedgehog asked.

The frog nodded.

Yep.

And it's a good one.

No, it's it's not, though.

First, it's a rehash of the last one.

And second, it really just stands to reinforce the status quo, Hedgehog said.

Now, to her, the message feels like one where aristocratic monarchical governments are at best ineffective for the needs of the regular person, and at worst, destructive, regressing to autocracy and oppression.

And the preferable state is one where the frogs govern themselves.

The frog looked left and right.

Yeah, that feels pretty subversive.

Aesop was born about a hundred years before Athenian democracy, so the theme of how dare you try to affect political change, you get what you deserve if the tyrant is mean to you, was still very much in vogue.

The hedgehog would have loved to continue the conversation on the merits of tyranny and oppression, but the frog was snatched up and torn limb from limb by his king.

So she continued on.

and as she did, she saw something troubling.

Cute, adorable kittens absolutely eviscerating the corpses of an eagle and a wild pig, and all of their children.

If she stopped to ask, which she didn't, she would have learned that the mother cat, who lived in the hollow part of the middle of the tree, wanted dinner for her new kittens.

So, climbing to the top, she warned the eagle that sat on top of the tree that the sow at the bottom was trying to take it down, to kill and eat them, and that the only thing the sow was afraid of was the eagle.

So the eagle must sit perched, which she did, and never leave, lest her own nest fall and end up as pig food.

At the bottom, the sow heard from the cat that the eagle was out to kill the sow and carry off her piglets for food, so she shouldn't leave while the eagle remained perched.

It only took a few weeks before both the sow and the eagle were nearly falling over with hunger, neither daring to leave the tree for fear the other would destroy their home and or their children.

They were were easy for the mother cat to sneak up on in the darkness, and the following day, she and her kittens feasted on their flesh, free from all danger.

Don't let fear control you, is what the takeaway would have been if the hedgehog stopped to ask the cats how they secured such a bounty.

Don't mess with cats, the mom cat said.

That's the lesson here.

Now keep moving before we bat you around to see how many hits it takes for all your spines to fall out.

Hedgehog did just that and moved quickly.

She was almost back when she heard a voice cough.

Tell my story.

It was a small voice up in a tree.

And the hedgehog looked up, um,

hi?

The gnat, currently being wrapped up by a spider, said he was the greatest of warriors.

Not possibly seeing how that could be the case, the hedgehog said, cool, she had a lot of things to do, so I battled lion.

And I won.

As the spider wrapped him up, the gnat told his story.

Buzzing around, the lion had snarled an away with you, vile insect.

Not to be disrespected, the gnat got up in the lion's face, which was easy to do because the lion's face was at least 50 times larger than his.

Do you think I'm afraid of you because they call you the king?

The gnat spat.

The lion was about to growl a yes, but the gnat lunged, stinging him on the nose.

Shaking his mane, the lion would pay the gnat back.

His claws found air, air and fur, his own fur, which was a problem, because while swatting at the gnat, he tore his own skin and bit his own bones.

Collapsed and bloody after a fight with the worst lion he knew, himself, the lion admitted defeat.

He gave up and lumbered off to, literally, lick his wounds.

That was right there.

The gnat gestured to the spots on the ground.

He was so elated about his win against the king of the beast that he flew straight into the spider's web.

The spider, you most inconsiderable of insects, the gnat hissed.

Yeah, you're not helping yourself, bud, the spider said as she started wrapping the gnat's mouth.

The least of our enemies is often the most to be feared.

Pride over a success should not throw us off our guard.

It's a twofer, two morals,

the gnat cried as the spider wrapped his face.

It was race day.

Fox had plotted the course that ran through the forest, by the village, back through the fields, finishing at the starting line.

The animal kingdom was ready.

Well, they were as ready as they cared to be.

Everyone thought that the hare was punching down, but also that the tortoise maybe shouldn't be running his mouth.

It began just like everyone thought.

Hare shot right off, and tortoise lazily took a few steps.

Eventually, when hare was well out of view and tortoise had gone about 10 feet, everyone stopped cheering and just kind of went home.

Further down the course, the hare heard a noise in front of him and dove behind a bush.

A fox, not his friend fox, but another one, there is more than one fox in a forest, walked next to a donkey.

Both of them were wary.

Up ahead, a lion lurked.

We'll be fine.

We've been working together for years.

While you wander in and distract the farmers by grazing on their fields, I go and steal cheese and maybe carry off a chicken.

Farmer gets a bite or kick when he tries to league you away, and we both run off with full bellies, the fox explained.

The donkey nodded.

That was a succinct summary of their time together, yes.

So I'll talk to him.

It'll be fine, the fox said.

The donkey took a deep breath.

Sure.

Okay.

The hare, being a hare, could hear the conversation with the lion.

Hi, hey, please don't eat me.

I can get you even more food, the fox said, holding his paws up.

The lion studied him.

Speak.

The fox explained that a nearby donkey trusted him.

They were friends.

He could lure the donkey into a pit so the lion could leap in and eat him without all those nasty kicks.

If he did that, betrayed his only friend in the world, could the fox pass?

The lion snorted.

Fine.

The fox came back.

They were good, he told his friend.

The lion thought they were diseased.

They just had to take the long way around, lest the lion get a good look at them.

The long way was right next to the track, and right next to Hare's hiding place.

He's coming.

Oh my gosh, go go the fox yipped, when the pit in front of the donkey was obscured by leaves.

Charging through, the donkey tumbled over the edge of the pit.

When the dirt settled, the hare could see that it didn't matter that the donkey couldn't kick.

At least one of his legs was broken.

He would never come out of that pit.

He called up to his friend, the fox, for help.

Please.

But there were other developments.

Pleasure doing business with you, you, the fox said.

His tail swished and then flattened, pinned by the lion's paw.

The lion's face curled into a snarl.

Where was the fox going?

The fox said that per their agreement, he would be leaving.

Since he delivered the lion the donkey, he would get to live, right?

The donkey sobbed, hearing how his best friend betrayed and sold him to be torn to pieces after tricking him to fall into a pit.

This was a bad day.

You had an agreement with the donkey.

That didn't stop you.

Why should it stop me?

The lion asked.

He had all the time in the world to eat the donkey now.

He would enjoy an appetizer first.

Traitors may expect treachery, the lion called out.

Using the cries of the fox, the hare ran as fast as he could from the bush.

By the time he made it to the village, he was tired.

Oof.

You know, with that burst of speed, he was pretty far along now.

There would be no harm in taking a short break.

He found a hole in a hedge just off the track and settled in and oh, wow.

Was that gold?

The hare had no wallet or pockets, and the animals had no monetary system or economy, but he knew that a solid gold egg was well, it was special.

And by the look of the mansion in the estate that consumed the entire hillside, so did the man who lived there.

The hare looked at the animal the gold came out of, and it was a goose.

goose.

A goose laying a golden egg.

A human stomped out from the manor after a servant disappeared into it, carrying the egg.

The human held out the egg to the goose, yelling that she needed to up production.

Being rich was a very expensive hobby, and he needed more eggs.

The hare wasn't great at speaking goose.

He'd only taken a semester in college, but what he gleaned from all the honking and flapping was that the goose could only lay one egg a day.

Please let her go home to her family.

The human paced.

He didn't speak goose, even though you could pretty much get the gist of it from the goose body language, but he wasn't happy either.

Yes, he had chanced upon this goose in her nest of golden eggs in the forest, and yes, he kept her and sold the eggs, moving quickly from hovel to a mansion, but an egg a day was a pittance now.

He turned to his servants.

Get the knife.

The servants returned with a knife.

The goose might not have understood what was happening immediately, but she grasped the severity of the situation when the lord of the manor grasped her neck and plunged the knife into her feathery chest.

I don't know what he thought was going to happen if the eggs were going to come exploding out of some pocket universe in the goose's ovary, but there was no such thing.

There was a half-formed golden egg, but other than that, it was just a bunch of goose organs.

Goose organs all the way down, the rich man muttered, shaking his head.

Oh, no, there's skin and more feathers.

No eggs, though.

Oh, no.

The rich man looked off into the distance and muttered, Those who have plenty want more, and so lose all they have.

The rich man's servants said, Uh, didn't he still have all the money he had sold the gold for over all those months?

He didn't lose anything, other than the promise of more golden eggs.

If he looked after his money, he'd have a nice little nest egg.

Too soon, the rich man shook his head, but yeah, he was right.

Okay, well, waste not.

Let's go eat this goose.

The hare, despite the goose death, was in a comfy, safe little spot.

And really, he could afford a nap, just a few minutes.

He just rests his eyes for a few minutes.

Yeah, this ends up going exactly how you think it's going to go.

But that will, once again, be right after this.

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The tortoise plodded along.

He had his water, he had his podcasts.

He was settling in at about 0.15 kilometers or 0.09 miles per hour.

He wasn't sure he could keep such a blistering pace going, but he would see.

He passed the pit with the remains of the donkey and the fox.

But there was a story there.

There was a rich man's farm with a wall and the aroma of a roasted goose, and there was...

music?

It was not to the tortoise's taste.

Not to anyone's taste, he imagined.

It was horrible.

And because the tortoise moved so slowly, he saw the whole scene.

Will you shut up?

The owl screeched.

The cricket said it was a free forest.

He had just as much much right to be here as the owl did.

I live here, the owl pleaded.

You have the entire forest, the entire world in which to play your horrible, horrible music.

I have to sleep or else I can't hunt.

And if I can't hunt, I can't eat.

And if I can't eat, I can't live.

And the cricket was playing the owl off, drowning her out with his music.

The owl paused.

Hmm.

She started tapping her talon.

That wow, that actually was pretty good.

The The cricket cocked his head.

It wasn't.

It was.

Of course it was.

It was his newest, screeching in C minor.

The owl settled in and enjoyed some of the cricket's newer stuff.

She clapped as best she could with feathered wings and then said, hey, you know what?

She actually had something for him.

The cricket was intrigued, okay?

The owl said the cricket knew that she was the symbol of Athena, right?

Well, she, the owl, got to go to Olympus on the regular, and well, she got something.

She pilfered some of Apollo's wine and brought it back.

It was what Apollo drank before he sang to the Olympians.

Can I have it?

The owl said, of course, he would sound even more amazing, but she couldn't bring it out.

She pointed up to the sky.

Apollo drove the sun.

He would see his drink down here in the world of the mortals, and they would both be goners.

I thought Helios drove the sun, the cricket observed.

And I thought you wanted to sing like the gods.

The owl turned to hop back to the hollow of the tree.

Okay, okay, where is it?

Where is it?

The cricket asked.

And the owl turned her head around.

It was just inside here, in the darkness of her home, where she could see him more clearly.

The cricket said, Oh

Okay.

He hopped in the tree and inside the owl's home.

Wow Sure is dark in here, the tortoise heard from the trail.

Where's the wine?

What what what are you doing?

No, no, you're eating me.

I'm being eaten alive.

Flattery Flattery is not a proof of true admiration.

I should not have let flattery throw me off my guard against an enemy.

LAL!

The tortoise thought that that was brutal stuff.

He kicked up the speed to 0.1 miles per hour to get out of there.

No, it's gone.

It's all gone.

The elderly man by the well cried as the tortoise approached.

His friend leaned over a nearby wall and looked down.

Oh, the chunk of gold the miserly man had hidden by the well?

The man said, Yeah, wait, what?

His neighbor knew?

Oh yeah, I know.

We all know.

The neighbor rested on the stones with a smile.

It was obvious.

The way the man was always coming over and checking on it and looking at it from his house and watching people whenever they went to the well.

It was stolen.

One of my workers stole it, the man cried.

I honestly never understood why you buried it in the ground to begin with.

the neighbor shook his head.

Why didn't he just keep it in his house?

That way, when he wanted to, you know, spend the money, he could just chip a piece off and sell it.

And

why was the miser doing that?

Why was he rolling around in the ground in shock?

It took the miserly man a bit of time to recover from the thought of spending his money.

He never touched his gold.

He couldn't even think of spending it.

The neighbor felt around the wall until, finding a stone, he tossed it to the ground with a thud.

There you go, the neighbor said, gesturing to the stone.

What's that?

It's a replacement for what you lost.

Oh, it's a replacement for what you lost.

The gold might as well have been a rock, for all you were doing with it.

Just bury that, and it will serve the same purpose, for a possession is worth no more than the use we make of it.

Wow, that was a great nap.

The hare awoke to the chill of nightfall.

Night

fall?

He shot up and bounded over to a bull in the field.

Hey, hey you, did you see a tortoise come by here?

the hare asked.

But the bull was already in a conversation.

He just didn't know it yet.

Hey, sorry for using your horns as a resting place, a voice said to the bull.

The bull swung his horns around.

Um,

who was talking?

A gnat buzzed around.

He was here, silly guy.

He had been resting on the bull's horns for several minutes.

He laughed, but the bull was glad to see him go.

I literally did not know you were there at all.

Leave, stay.

It's of no consequence to me, the bull said.

For

we are often of greater importance in our own eyes than in the eyes of our neighbor.

The smaller the mind, the greater the conceit.

As the gnat buzzed off to go drag the bull on social media, the hare waved.

Hey, a tortoise?

The bull thought about it.

Actually, yeah, he did.

Hours ago?

Oh no, the hare said and took off.

The hare ran as fast as he could through the forest, by the mountains, by the coast, the countless other morals he wouldn't have time to get to until No.

There, at the end, a very weary crowd looked on as the tortoise, plodding along on his little toe feet things, was not three steps from the finish line.

No, the hare said and ran as fast as he could.

Cueing a royalty-free approximation of chariots of fire, the hare's feet pounded the dirt trail in slow motion, while the tortoise's little nubs, moving much slower, also found the path.

The hare rocketed across the finish line, but looking down as he did so, found that the tortoise's foot was already on the finish line.

He had done it.

He had beaten the rabbit.

The lesson here is often, slow and steady wins the race, and while that fits, I don't think it tells the whole story.

For one version I found, the moral was, the race is not always to the swift.

He could probably stop doing that.

I like that better because that is the case.

Something that we're trying to instill in our son as he's working through grade school is that natural ability is awesome, but it will only get you so far.

Doing the work is how you translate your talent or intelligence to have an effect on the real world.

It's not that slow and steady wins the race, but that work wins the race every time.

No one debated the hare's ability to win, not even the tortoise.

The tortoise knew that the hare would think he was so naturally fast, so much better than the tortoise, that he was untouchable and take that unearned rest.

And that was how the tortoise won.

When it comes to raw ability versus hard work, preparation, and experience, the latter wins.

So, yeah, the race does not always go to the swiftest.

That's all for the stories this week.

These were fun, but I've heard that people don't always love the animal stories, so let me know if you want to hear more fables.

There are a ton more more from Aesop.

Next week though, it's Flemish folklore.

Well we'll see why there's misery in the world and how she's actually not that bad.

The creature this time is the Amphitir from Welsh folklore.

Or maybe North Africa or North America or just generic Europe.

Let's just pretend it liked to travel.

The dragon has a few different names.

It's also called the Amphit there.

There's a third one, but that's neither amphet here or amphet there.

It's actually fit there.

And yes, I was so happy when I found I could make that joke.

The amphetir is actually a fairly generic snake with wings.

At least, that's its most reported form.

It's about six to nine feet long and covered in armor-like scales.

Its wings are either feathered like a bird or skinned like a bat, and if they are bat wings, then they're just glittery, which I think really undercuts the terror of the dragon.

That could be because, while it's a dragon and may hypnotize you in order to eat you, it doesn't really want to.

It apparently has great wisdom, and people do seek after it.

Seems like a trap propagated by a potentially very crafty monster, because, yeah,

you can talk to the amphiteer.

It'll change your life.

What it doesn't mention is that being eaten by a dragon is a life-changing experience, because It's a life-ending experience.

Like other dragons that sit on hordes of treasure, like other dragons, the amphetir sits on hoards of treasure.

Unlike others, they don't enjoy it.

They're smart enough to get really bored just sitting on treasure, but they do it out of obligation.

Obligation to what?

Well, even the amphiteer doesn't know.

It must be a long-lost cousin of the dragon Cadmus killed in Greek myth, because, like that dragon, if you pull out its teeth and plant them, human soldiers will spring up from the ground.

and they'll be fiercely loyal to you forever.

So, if you're really bad at leadership and just can't win over that team, just go play dentist with a dragon.

That's it for this time.

Myths and Legends is by Jason and Carissa Wiser.

Our theme song is by Broke for Free, and the Creature of the Week music is by Steve Colms.

There are links to even more of the music we used in the show notes.

Thank you so much for listening, and we'll see you next time.

This is Jana Kramer from Windown with Jana Kramer.

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Kevin and Rachel and King of MMs and an eight-hour road trip and Rachel's new favorite audiobook, The Cerulean Empress, Scoundrel's Inferno.

And Florian, the reckless yet charming scoundrel from said audiobook.

And Kevin, feeling weird because of all the talk about Pex, and Rachel handing him peanut MMs to keep him quiet.

Uh, Kevin, I can't hear.

Yellow, we're keeping it PG-13.

MMs, it's more fun together.