If you are anything like anyone else who has access to food and water without having to battle a desert crime lord, then at some point you have bought something you didn’t need. Don’t deny it; I can’t hear you and anyone who can doesn’t care. You’ve wasted money before, but you can redeem yourself by making the wisest purchase of your life: a gargoyle. Think of all the reasons you need a contorted stone beast in your life. Now, stop thinking of them, and read mine, which are better.
1. Street Cred.
Your gargoyle makes a statement, and that statement is “I have a stone monster.” If ever you worried about ruffians swing-dancing up to your home and ruffian-ing you up, then a gargoyle isn’t an option for you; it’s a necessity. What streetwise thug would assault a home watched over by the pitiless stone eyes of a bat-goblin sentinel? Four out of five thugs agree they wouldn’t even try invading a goyle-guarded home. The fifth tried, and now he’s a campfire story whispered among the doctors of the shredded genitals ward.
2. Holiday Cheer
You know of holidays. You likely celebrate one or more so you’re pretty aware of the unpleasant hours that go into decking your halls, jacking your o’lanterns, rama-ing your dans, casting your home into the limelight of festive vestments; it’s exhausting. For years you have looked to your leaders, your gods, anyone who will listen and begged relief, shrieking “there’s got to be a better way!” And there is. It’s gargoyles.
Tell me, how many superfluous decorations have you seen added to a Gothic cathedral during the holidays? How many Christmas lights hanging from the buttresses, how many dreidels spinning on the spires. Now, how many winged monoliths of stone terror decorate your standard Romantic God palace? Between 1 and more than 1 right? Rock beasts hewn from ancient stone were enough holiday cheer for your ancestors, so why isn’t it enough for you? One final question to ask yourself before you are irrevocably convinced: do you actually think you’re smarter than Gothic architects?
3. You Can Finally Act Out Those Anne Rice Fantasies
You probably still have the cloak stuffed deep in a box you don’t open in a closet messy with business casual and pastels. How long have you put on hold your dreams of doing blood kisses with Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise while an age-appropriate Kirsten Dunst watches. It could never be real though. How could you host vampire royalty in your filthy studio apartment–anywhere you can afford is still a studio to T. Cruise and Braddy Brads. And you own zero velvet drapes! Even in your most ribald, ludicrous self-insert fanfics, you could not imagine those chiseled pale faces in the physical context of your Ikea furniture and Goodwill aesthetic.
But throw a gargoyle into the room, and the mood changes. The lights aren’t dim because you can’t afford new bulbs; they’re purposefully intimate. The carpet isn’t soiled; it’s well-aged like the cheese its texture matches. The grease-stained drywall that surrounds you is a mask for something nefarious and sensual, a thin veil for what you always knew your long-canined loves would desire. You’re not just some loser in a tiny room; you’re a carnal camper in the tent of taboo love about to be drained by two human-mosquitoes.
4. You’ll Finally Have a Reason to Visit That Gargoyle-Themed Outlet Mall
Finally! All the stores you could only ogle are yours for the patronizing; Gargs ‘R Us, JC Rock Monster, and Hot Topic here you come!
5. Your Home Will at Last be Safe from Bel’Shnibbeth, the Undergod
Between the career that pays you slightly less than you think you deserve and the social life that costs slightly more than the fun it provides, you’re on a tight schedule. With your hectic life it’s no wonder you haven’t had time to don your holy armor, pull the family sword from the family stone, and do glorious battle with the eldritch horror Bel’Shnibbeth, the undergod, thrice called unsightly by Dan the Apt.
For too long you have had to endure the taunts of a high demon and the legions of white-eyed undead preteen girls he parks on your lawn. Too long have you had to grimace and shrug impotently each time a tentacle burst from your floor and made rude gestures at you. You’ve known what could put an end to the undead antics of the sulfurous unholy one at your threshold, but you hoped it wouldn’t come to this. It’s time, good buddy, to get yourself one of those sweet sweet grimacing stone-bat-dog monsters, plop that thing next to your front door by your hand-dug moat filled with bathwater and goldfish, and let the supple serenade of gargoyle-on-demon violence rock you to a state of pure customer satisfaction.