Jason Weiser (16:01)
BetterHelp is entirely online therapy, designed to be flexible, convenient, and suited to your schedule. Step one is filling out a brief questionnaire to get matched with a licensed therapist. From there, let the gratitude flow with BetterHelp. Visit betterhelp.com mythstoday to get 10% off your first month. That's BetterHelp H-E-L-P.com myths I have your sword, one of the princess's ladies said through the crack of the open door, her foot catching it as the princess tried to close it. Do you want to talk about anything? The woman asked, hopefully not losing a toe in the process. It's not my sword, the princess said and kept pushing. I know it's the father's, the lady said. There was a pause on the other side and the door relaxed. Can I come in the princess stepped aside. After she finished explaining what happened, her lady looked at the growing bump. Yeah, that's a development. Okay. Well, now she wasn't alone. The princess had her. No one can know. If the only man I see is my father, people will think this is his. The princess cried. I mean, probably not, right? I know it's in the original, but why would that be the first place people go before a tryst with a forbidden lover or a guard or something like that? Anyway, no worries. She wasn't alone anymore. No one would know, and no one did. For the next several months, the princess was grateful for her friend who did everything she needed. Her father happened to be traveling the kingdom, and since no one had the authority to barge into the princess's quarters, the secret was kept. Even through tears and anguish, as having only her lady in waiting to help, the princess gave birth in the room. It was a boy. She loved him, she did. But he couldn't stay. I know just the place, the lady said, swaddling the boy. They prepared a basket for him, tucking 4 pounds of gold and 10 pounds of silver in the bottom, which combined with a 5 to 8 pound baby, made for a heavy basket. But that wasn't all. She was putting in gloves. Gloves. The princess face soured. They were a gift from the baby's father, from fairyland. The gloves would only fit her, the princess, the mother, as if she needed to test it. The lady tried on the gloves and wow. They had the same sized hands. But the gloves didn't fit at all. Put them in. The princess said it was a reminder of the boy's father and they would be more useful to the boy anyway. She wrote a note explaining the gloves and the baby, that she prayed good people would find her son and look after him. The baby was quiet as the lady in waiting stole out of a side door and to the waiting horse. The princess alone in her tower and mourning the child she wouldn't go a day without thinking of was not. Because the night was cold, the lady could gallop across the fields without worry that anyone would accost her. Even the brigands took such a frigid night off. She left the horse 20 paces from the stone house, and the baby was stretching and squirming in the basket. When she arrived at the door of the hermit's shack, she set the baby down, stroked his face one last time, knocked on the door and ran. Looking behind her and seeing the cracks of the door glowing with the light of the lantern behind it. She found her horse, mounted it, and was out of the forest before the door opened. Back at the shack, the hermit looked down. Um, did. Did someone Forget their baby? 3 days of being a new parent and the hermit was quickly out of his depth. I'm pretty sure every new parent has been there. I mean, every other new parent that wasn't a 40 something guy living alone in the forest, who, when it came to being a parent, was very much not expecting in any sense of the word. He had two abandon his hermitage and seek help or continue to raise the baby here alone. Not even needing to think twice, he slung the baby over his chest, grabbed his meager possessions of the forest and went to his chapel. Now, as much as I wanted the sitcom of a bunch of medieval French priests raising a baby together, with all the hilarious hijinks that ensue, fatherhood was the best name I could come up with. They knew their limits. Thankfully, the hermit's sister was a merchant and she and her husband had been trying to no avail. They took the baby in and Degal, the sister said, taking the baby from the hermit. Really? You named him? Essentially unknown. Which, yeah, that's what de Gal meant. The priests were very much fish out of water. That show would have been hilarious, Would have gone for six seasons in a movie. The deal was that they would raise little Degal, which was like naming a kid John Doe, except even less creative. But anyway, they would raise de Gaulle for 10 years and then send him back to the abbey when he could talk and wasn't so sticky and squirmy and so little Degal grew up in the care of the merchant couple, believing them to be his parents and the less and less accurately named hermit to be his uncle. When he was 10, he went to be educated by the hermit in clerical lore, living at the abbey with the priests. Then, on his 20th birthday, his uncle sat him down. He had something to tell the boy. An hour later, both Degal and the hermit dried their eyes. The hermit said there wasn't a day that went by that he wasn't grateful for whoever left Degall at his doorstep in the woods, his life was fuller and richer for his role in raising the boy. But if it were him, he felt like he would want to know. So he figured Degal would want to know. Degal always knew that he was different from his family, in that he looked nothing like his family and was a whole head taller than his adoptive father. By the time he was 15. He told his uncle and he would tell his parents that it in no way minimize their role. They would always be his parents. But he wanted to know. He tucked the gloves into his pack alongside half the gold and silver. His parents didn't need it, but the abbey could use it above his uncle's protests that he required the gold for horses and provisions and such. Degas wouldn't hear it. The story tells us that they both wept as de Gaulle made his way into the forest to find his birth parents. De Gaulle's ears pricked up as he heard the knights, heard the knights dying. He had already seen their horses bolt on the path and pass him, and if he had known the owners were literally being torn to pieces, he might have tried to catch one. But he didn't know the knight's fates until he peeked in the clearing and saw the last limping away with one of his legs torn to pieces, the poison already visibly setting in, the man fell to the ground under the dragon's pounce and his last cries were silenced by the monster's teeth. Dagal backed away slowly. Welp, no need to get involved in any of this. Then he heard the whimper, the soft weeping of the man barely hiding under the pile of his dead servants. From the cut of the cloth alone, Tagal could tell the man was an earl. And he wasn't the only one who heard the whimpering. The dragon froze, listened, and turned, its eyes zeroing in on the pile of the half eaten knights and the relatively plump, unarmored treat within. Salivating, the dragon sniffed and trotted toward the Earl, whose eyes widened in terror as the dragon charged, opened up, and dropped. Dagal had moved so quickly that neither the dragon nor the Earl knew what had happened until it was over and Dagal's club was dripping blood. Who are you? The girl trembled. Dagal, the young man replied. You. You unknown. You don't know? The Earl squinted. No, Dagal. Yeah, that's what I said, the Earl noted before the dragon at his side began to stir. Oh, it's not dead. It's not dead. After a few more blood splats and a lot more club strikes, the dragon was truly finally dead, and the Earl was in Degal's debt. Degal could have anything he wanted. Ladies? Degal asked. The earl kinda grimaced. Awkward, but anything means anything. He noticed it was plural, which was even more problematic, but the young man was gonna need to be more specific. All the ladies of your earldom, the Gaal said. The earl said, now that was actually gonna be an issue. They were probably gonna get some pushback on that. Ladies to wear my glove. Degasle held up A glove. The earl didn't know what that was a euphemism for, and frankly, didn't need to. Not judging sure they would find some ladies to wear his glove on the way back. The earl was relieved to know that it wasn't a euphemism like drawing the sword from the stone or anvil or Cinderella's slipper. The glove was only meant for one person, De Gaulle's biological mother. So for the next few months, every woman in the earldom came from places near and far and nothing. The glove didn't fit a single person. As the consolation prize, De Gaulle, who had become quite close with the earl and his daughter at that time, got a sword, a horse, and a set of armor for saving the man, and they wished him luck in finding his mom. What's. What's all this? DeGaul asked the peasant, who looked up and down and then averted his eyes out of deference. Oh, the line. The line's over there, sir. Degal thanked the man and went to the line. It was probably the shortest possible line. Two people. It became three, but then went back to two when one knight ran off screaming, saying he couldn't do it. What's. What's all that about? Degal asked the man in front of him, the first in line who smirked. Oh, him. He couldn't take it. Take what exactly? What is this line for? DeGaul learned that it was for the princess, more specifically for her hand. Whoever beat the king got to marry the princess. It had been going on for 20 plus years now. Whole generations of knights were dead by this guy's hand. Until today, that is, because the knight at the front of the line would defeat him. His older brother had been lost to this king 25 years prior, and he had been raised and trained with a singular purpose. Kill the king. That had devastated their line. He was 23. The king was pushing 60. It wouldn't even be a fair fight. And it wasn't. The knight was dead before he hit the ground, the king's lance going straight through his head. Time out. Time out. The king cried. Need to hydrate. Killing all these 20 somethings wasn't difficult, but it was work. You know, like you can do what you love, but it's still a job. While Degal waited, he saw the armorer who looked him over. Good quality stuff. Who trained him? Nobody, Degal noted. The armorer blinked. Okay, how many tournaments had he won? He was still young, but even at 20, there had to be some. Oh, none at all. I'd never Even held a lance. Pointy end goes out, right? I joke, but that is about the level of my expertise. Degal informed the horrified armorer. Why are you even doing this? The man asked as the king rode back out. Well, the Gaul said as he put his helmet on, I have nothing. I figure, I guess that it's better to try to be someone and if I fail, I won't even shame my family because I don't even know who they are. That sounds sad and dark. The armorer sighed. Still though, he was the first guy who wasn't an absolute jerk to him this week. So he was pulling for Degal. Alright. Calling it. The king cried out to the people in attendance. Mark it. I've been doing a lot of eye and body stuff. I'm gonna break this kid's neck, spice it up a bit. And this is in the original, the king was calling his murders. And it's basically that. Customs and rules varied across Europe, but it was very much not sporting to maim or kill opponents in tournaments. That being said, absolute monarchy is absolute monarchy and these guys weren't related to the local nobles. So the nobles didn't have literal skin in that game and opted instead to choose their battles. Thus all to death. The Gaul was slow to get going. He had only ever seen one joust, that one just now and never taken part in one. And when the lance hit his head, he took it very nearly on the chin and the lance shattered and he didn't move at all. The king was stunned. The people were shocked. De Gaulle was a little sore, but looked around, did, did I, did I joust good? Okay, back. This time the king would break his back. He rounded the edge of the field with his horse and broke off into a gallop. Dagal, wondering if jousting was sitting there and taking life threatening hits, I guess, felt the next lance shatter on his chest armor. The crowd was beginning to turn though, in favor of Dagal, and they were crying out for him to do something. Why wasn't he fighting? Degal slapped the armored gauntlet against his forehead. Fight back. Of course, after getting hit so many times, he was pretty sure he knew how this worked. And he did. He spurred his horse onto a canter and even though the king was in a full gallop, De Gaul hit him in the chest and the king fell from his horse, skidding to the ground. The whole of the stadium was in stunned silence. It happened. It finally happened. The king sat up, pointing a shaking finger at Dagal. That man was Samson. He was a devil. He he was perfect for the king's little girl. Little girl? Isn't she, like, pushing 40? One peasant whispered. To a frown. His companion said, this is a special day. The princess is getting married. Let people enjoy things. Jacques, you might know who de Gaulle is marrying, but he sure doesn't. That will once again be right after this. What a day. De Gaulle laughed. He unhorses the princess's dad in the morning, gets married in the afternoon, and now wedding night. Not where he expected to be this morning when he woke up in a ditch. Not by a long shot. Are you gonna unpack? The princess said, sitting awkwardly on the bed. Tagal rolled his eyes. Okay, Mom. She pursed her lips and started unpacking his bag for him while he started undoing his shirt. He said he knew they just met, like 10 minutes before the wedding, so he understood there would be some getting to know each other. He sat down on the bed and started stroking her back. They didn't need to jump right in. In fact, he wasn't exactly sure 100% on what it was. He was raised in a monastery, so this would be a day full of all sorts of firsts. He noticed that she was shaking, and he gasped standing up. Whoa. Sorry. No. They could take it so slow. He could sleep on the floor, even. And. Oh, weird reaction to gloves. Yeah, those were gloves that would only fit his birth mom, who left him at the door of a hermitage. The princess said as she slipped on the gloves. The gal said, yeah. How did she know? Wait, how did those fit? She turned and tears ran down her face. Oh my gosh, Mom. Degahl met her tears and then recoiled. Oh my gosh. We almost. Oh, gross, gross, gross. Oh my gosh. I would have, like, clawed my eyes out. She didn't care, though. She said she had thought about him every day and he was here. She held out her arms and he ran to her embrace. And then both of their eyes opened. Yeah, let's. Let's hug over there. And maybe not on the bed. That was still way too real. You had a child. The king stood, his chest heaving. The princess looked at the floor. She could explain. It happened when she was separated from the group on their way. This is amazing. The king hustled down the stone steps and drew them both into his arms. She said, amazing. He's not mad. Why would I be mad? You had a child and you didn't die. That's all I ever wanted was you not dead. Who's the papa? She explained what happened on that horrible day in the forest. Oh, okay. Well, I am going to murder him. The king said. You're going to kill my father? Dagal asked. The room turned to the 20 year old. The king said he was just angry. No, sorry. He wouldn't murder him because murder implied that it was a crime, when really it was just a very delayed execution. The king could go find his pop Pop. The princess stepped forward. She only had one thing of his, one way to find him. She showed her son the sword. It was missing its tip, but it was otherwise beautiful. Degas held it aloft and swung it through the air. He stood up straighter. Now that he had the sword, he would not rest, night or day, until he found his father. I don't know if the poem is trying to be funny, but it explicitly says he slept in the city that night. Immediately after that, he also went to mass and prepared himself and got started about noon. Noon 30, he rode west to the forest in which he was conceived. For weeks he traveled back and forth, sleeping on the ground, but nothing. Soon he emerged out to the other side to see a limestone castle. He sighed. It would be good to go rest in an actual bed. He wrote for the castle, calling out his name and his lineage and asking if he might sleep there. And the drawbridge went down. He let his horse in and letting go of the reins, he turned and saw it being led into the stables. He walked through the vacant town and the castle and found a fire crackling inside. Okay. He sat down and waited for whoever owned this place. Oh, hi. Degal called out to the three maidens with bows and arrows as they tried to sneak through the room behind him. The three with the deer were next, and then the mythological dwarf stomped over and barred the door behind them. What's happening? Dagal looked around. Was he supposed to ask what was going on or not ask? Was he being percivaled? 10 more maidens arrived from up in the castle, and then behind them all, the lady of the castle. Dagal was instantly entranced, but not in a magic way. The group sat down at the table where they served the deer and they cooked the foraged vegetables from the forest, and there was an extra seat. The mythological dwarf scowled at him, but he sat down anyway and quickly tore into the meat and drank the wine. After dinner, still with no one talking to him, De Gaul followed the people back into the room with the harp and the couch and the wine, and several days sleeping in the forest, cashing in their debt. Sleep found him, and the following morning slaps found him. Oh, so you can't Talk. But you can slap? Degal asked. The lady said that she could also talk. Why was he not defending her? Maidens, get ready to go. Degal looked left and right. Was that something that was expected of him? He had no idea what was going on. What was she talking about? You deserve to suffer shame. She seethed in the original. Degal groaned. Okay, seriously, what was going on? Who was the lord of this land and who holds this castle? And like, what was. What was her deal? Was she like a wife, a widow kind of doing the single thing? She began to weep. She said her father had been a great baron and she was his only child. There. There was a knight who had been in love with her for a long time. He was strong. One day, tired of her rejecting him because he had repeatedly vowed to murder anyone that stood in his way. He killed the baron on the open field, who rode out to warn him to leave and never return. After that, he came for the castle to take her by force. The knights all died that day. The squires fought him four or five at a time. And they died. All the archers, the pages. And after that, anyone who could be seen as standing against him fled in the night. It was just her and a handful of her most loyal ladies. The dwarf let Degal in, maybe in hopes that he could stand against the knight. But now they feared that they had no hope. The knight would be back. He would gain entrance to the castle and he would kill everyone who remained and take her. No. No, he will not. Degal stood. He would fight this shameful night. He had done a fight exactly one time before. How hard could this be? Not that hard, actually. In fact, kind of easy. De Gaulle was finding he had a real knack for fighting. Much to his delight, and to the horror of everyone who watched a full grown horse getting snapped in half. Yeah, it turns out the knight that killed everyone was no joke. When Degaul hit him, it was like an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object because the knight did not move. Unfortunately, he was riding on a horse that was very movable. And yes, the blow snapped the horse in half. To the murderer knight's credit, even after killing an entire town, he wouldn't slay Degal's horse. Degal dismounted and the battle began. If you can't tell, I kind of became bored with battles. Around episode 30. We did Cu Chulainn, we did Balan versus Balin. Even Ser Thomas Mallory in Arthurian legend seems to start phoning it in too, with comparing everything to bears and boars. Basically a battle happened. They hacked away at each other, the knight gave Sir Dagal stern strokes, great plenty, and he him again also. Those are direct quotes, by the way. This was a fun read. The fight was closer than when DeGaul fought his grandfather, and as I'm saying that, it really feels like that should have been the case. Even though he was bleeding, DeGaul managed to put his blunt sword through the challenger's helmet. The keep was safe. So there are a few interpretations when it comes to what happened next, when the lady of the castle pulled Dagal into her bedroom and began pulling off his, no doubt blood splattered plate armor, telling him he could, for charity's sake dwell with her and she would give him her land and herself while she lived. Maybe it was just a very intense emotional experience. Maybe they were both euphoric after not dying that day. Maybe we're at like line 900 of an 1100 line poem and the poet is tired. Whatever reason for getting right down to it and skipping the prolonged love story and courtship, the gal held up his gauntleted hand. No, thank you for sure. But he had to go find his lecherous monster of a father. Then he had an idea. One year. Could he come back in exactly one year and then stay with her forever? She said sure. That was it really. Kind of took the wind out of her sails here though. A year, really? He was sure he was coming back though, right? Like he wouldn't freak out and go into naked madness when 366 days from now, she sent her lady to find him at a tournament, having completely forgot about his oath. He said that was really specific. And that went over his head because he hadn't listened to episode one Yvain Glory, released in May of 2015. No, no, he would be back. He just had to see this quest through. And that was his reason. Yvayn was worried about atrophying and what his fellow knights might think of him. Degal, like me when I sat down to work, knew that he had to see this task through first, because a thousand others might distract him in the process. The pair said a tearful goodbye and Degal rode west. Vagabond, what dost thou here in my forest to chase, my dear? The stranger with the azure shield with three boar heads on it? Cried Dagal. His armor was painted gold, which is as tacky as it is difficult to maintain. Dagal trotted out, oh no, sorry, he wasn't looking for deer. He was an adventurous knight and he came seeking war and fight he said, matching the challenger's rhyme scheme, even though battle or challenge or even dad might have been more appropriate. Well then, you've found your fight, the stranger said, telling Dagas to arm himself. Then the stranger blinked. Um, yeah, so Dagal's armor was definitely a capital C choice. Before leaving the keep, he accepted armor from his betrothed. The gemstone helmet was a bit gaudy, and it was like if you bedazzled some regular armor. But in the place of the three boars, like his challenger had, DeGaul had three images of the woman he was going to marry. Maybe I'm reading that wrong. The text is pretty difficult to parse, to be honest. But yeah, it was like a three wolf moon thing, but with her face carved in silver with crowns of gold. It was a good shield, though. And gripping his lance, the Gaul, the Proto Wife guy charged if you didn't know, there's a trope out there called fridging or women in refrigerators. It is a plot device where women in stories experience brutal harm or they're killed or something terrible happens to them, so that a male character's plot can advance or he can learn something about himself. That, thankfully, is not what happens here exactly. But the fact that both men struck with such force, yet were so immovable that both both of their horses tore in half simultaneously feels like a version of that where brutal horse death reveals something to us about the nature of the Woodland Harasser. But neither the man nor his son Degal knew the truth as they tumbled to the ground, drawing their swords to both continue and finish the fight. That sword. The forest jerk marveled. Where did he get that sword? Dgal sneered, panting. What did it matter to him? The fairy knight drew a piece of metal from his pouch and held it up to the tip of Dagal's sword. It was a perfect fit. Dad. Son. Literally, both father and son swooned, fainting there in the forest. They were certainly sharing a moment. The princess swooned when she saw the knight, and the king appeared to have cooled a bit when he met the fairy knight. But he did have one little insistence. The fairy knight would be marrying his daughter. He had done something terrible, but he would make it right, at least for degasle. So much to the princess's horror, she was married off to the Fairy Knight. But a few hours after the wedding, de Gaulle gasped. What? What day was it? The household flew into a flurry, getting everyone ready to go right out for sir de Gaulle's wedding. The king held up a finger. Oh he and a fairy knight, his new son in law needed to see something here at the castle. Shouldn't take long. Just a small formality. Just a little checkbox, really. Dagal said that they didn't have time. They needed to get on the road. And so the rest of the party left. Without the king and the fairy knight? Yeah. So small thing. So small. But everyone who wanted to marry my daughter needed to challenge me to a joust first. And even though you're already married to her, you did kinda skip the line back there in the forest. You want me to fight you? The fairy knight laughed. Well, you have to earn your place in this family. Okay? The fairy knight shrugged. Don't go easy on me, old man. Oh, I won't. Nagal sat with his wife when the king, his grandfather, arrived. Oh, where was his dad? That's the thing. We were riding through the forest and he just left. Forever. The king shrugged. The Gaul was nearly in tears. But the king told him not to waste any on that man. If he couldn't stick around for his son, he wasn't worthy of him. It was like the fairy knight could barely even control it. Like something was dead inside of him that made him leave. Like his heart was dead. When I. Okay, dad. The princess cut him off. She at least understood the connotation that was quickly morphing into denotation. But yes, De Gaulle was married and ruled over the keep with the lady, and the princess became queen after her father. And so Degalet found his place in the world, but still had one enemy to himself. How much of the monster that was his father lurked in him, and how much of his own power was truly monstrous? And how could he reconcile the fact that the man he idolized and sought the world over, his father, was actually the villain of the story? Just kidding. He didn't think about any of those things. He had a kingdom and ruled in peace. Without any introspection. The. Okay, so a few notes. First, the ending is not quite the ending in the original. In the original, as I understand it, the family welcomes the Fae knight and he marries the princess he raped. And we kind of touch on that. But I also wanted some justice. And the king that was so protective of his daughter in my mind wouldn't let that go and didn't have a problem with killing Knight. So I just took all those concepts to their logical conclusions. In my mind, the story was more interesting because the fey knight was the villain, but he was also the person the protagonist was seeking. So that kind of tension was interesting to me, even if Degal didn't seem to feel that tension at all. Moving on. If you notice that there are a lot of parts that seemed borrowed from other stories, you are not the only one. We have Yvain, we have Oedipus, we have Cinderella, we have Tam Lin and more. The original author of this tale, according to an article in the Johns Hopkins University Press, had a reputation of, and this is a quote from 1938, being a stupid hack, clumsily fitting together borrowed plots like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle in an incoherent tale. Yeah, don't get English professors on your bad side. They have all, all the words and they are not afraid to use them. And yeah, the version I found had some inconsistencies with the translation that made it difficult at times. It was translated because this type of work is, as I mentioned at the top, called A Breton Lay, an Adventure Story translated from French to English. In the Middle Ages they focus on love, chivalry and the supernatural. This one in particular has a long and varied textual history. I read one paper that said it was the longest. I don't know though. I'm not a professor. I will say though, that I tended to agree with the scholars who took a more holistic approach when looking at this work and viewed it as a domestic epic of psychological growth, of rites of passage to maturity. Like for me, it does raise questions of, for example, the use of violence and power, in Degal's father's case, using it for evil and selfish ends, but in Dagal's case using that exact same inherited power to rescue kingdoms and slay dragons, and how to reckon his direct family's violent history with his desire to do good and using that violence to do good. One issue raised with this text is that the story might raise questions and then doesn't do anything else with them. And where some reviewers see a break with the past and a step toward the modern with a more character focused pseudo psychological drama, it's not that big of a step and the characters don't change all that much. I thought it was interesting enough to make an episode out of though. If you want to talk about it with other listeners, check out Discord link in the show Notes. If you want to connect with us on social media, there are links to those places and if you'd like to support the show directly and get ad free and bonus episodes, check out mythpodcast.com membership or find us on Apple Podcasts the creature this week is the Niminju, the Human face tree from Japan. Laugh and the human face tree laughs with you. Cry. And the human face tree laughs still because the fruit that's nothing but human faces can only laugh or however the saying goes. Yeah, so the human face tree is kind of a clumsy and obvious name for a tree with flowers that look like human faces. It's like a podcast that tells myths and legends. Being called myths and legends, you pretty much know what you're gonna get. The human face tree has flowers that laugh and smile with you. And that sounds delightful. Just don't get too delighted because if the flowers laugh too hard, their heads will wilt and fall off the tree. They can also die naturally because according to one version, they smile away until their petals fall in the fall. They bear a fruit when, if you bite into it, tastes sweet and sour. We glossed over it, but a couple weeks back in the story of Bulukiya, I mentioned that he found a tree with fruit that was human heads. And that actually appears to be the origin of this creature. Coming from the Middle east, making its way through China and then to Japan. With the Japanese name being thought of as a pronunciation of the Chinese name for the Islamic name, which came from an ancient Persian name, the story is thought to have traveled via trade. In other cultures, the faces can be that of beautiful women. It's even stretched all the way to the modern day. Because if you were a kid in the 90s like me, or if you were any of Pokemon's millions of fans throughout the past, I don't know, 20, 30 years, this is the creature that apparently inspired Executor. But before you start to think that you always have a great sitcom like audience within Ninju, there are some caveats. One probably don't pick them. Not that that would be appealing or appetizing, but it would be pretty distressing to have a head slowly dying your pantry or refrigerator or God forbid, your countertop next. They haven't always been all laughs. They apparently told Alexander the Great how he would die back in the day. So yeah, only approach the Ninmenju if you want an extremely uncritical audience for your stand up type 5 and are also willing to risk knowing the day of your death. That's it for this time. Myths and Legends is by Jason and Carissa Weiser. Our theme song is by Broke for Free. And the Creature of the Week music is by Steve Combs. 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.
