The Dracantapede Page
The Dracantapede appears here and there, now and then, to this one and that one . . .
| The Dracantapede is a much misunderstood and sadly maligned beast, in spite of its pretty face. Dracantapedes do not steal food like Harpies; they don't pull you | ||||
| underwater like Mermaids; they don't drive you mad with their singing like Sirens. Gentle and articulate, they make perfect garden companions-- |  |
|||
 |
and
their advice can be relied upon implicitly. You should always do
what a Dracantapede suggests.
The word Dracantapede has also been spelled Dracontopede and even, rather horribly, Draconcopede. But they don't really like to be called Draconcopedes. Would you? |
|||
|
|
||||
|
The common or garden Dracantapede is often depicted with wings and crowns as well as tails. They are usually very generous about food and nutritional advice. |
 |
|||
|
They also like baths. |
||||
|
|
||||
|
Consider the thoughtful analysis of Elwood P. Dowd: "You know, years ago, my mother used to say to me, she'd say, 'In this world, Elwood, you must be . . .'--she always called me 'Elwood'--'In this world, Elwood, you must be oh, so smart or oh, so pleasant.' Well, for years I was smart. I recommend pleasant. And you may quote me." This is exactly the outlook of the dracantapede. Pay no attention to that other garden business . . . Was offering Eve the apple such a very bad thing?
|
