Gargoyle #writephoto

The human children kept knocking on his door.

Some knocked and ran away, others waited to ask about his horns, pull on his tail, or even invite themselves inside for a chat and some biscuits.

None of this was acceptable.

He was a gargoyle, for crying out loud.

He was supposed to be formidable.

His first plan of action was to get a formidable-looking door knocker. Something scary, with nasty antlers and a pair of hollow eyes to boot.

That didn’t work. It just brought more children to his door, and now they were all asking why he wasn’t as scary as his door knocker.

The next idea he had was to swoop down from the roof and roar at them. Problem was, he hadn’t roared in two hundred years. What ended up coming out of his mouth was a pathetic croaking sound and a few globules of spit.

He tried turning on the sprinklers, but they played in the water. He splattered the doorstep with blood, but they all claimed it was tomato sauce.

Finally, exhausted, he gave up. He was never getting rid of them.

But he wasn’t about to lose his gargoylish reputation for nothing. He figured, if they were going to bother him, he might as well make a business of it.

So he put up a sign that said “Entry fee: $5 per child. Holiday surcharges apply”.

He never saw them again.

 

(Image courtesy of Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo)

Written for Sue Vincent’s Writephoto Prompt: Knock