fat flightless gargoyle

I've always felt the life of a gargoyle would be uncomfortable at best.

Think about it. There you are confined to a rooftop all day, encased in stone, probably enduring remarks about how ugly you are from thankless humans from sun up to sun down. Then the moon comes up and you burst out of your rocky hide only to protect the very same thankless humans you heard snarking at you earlier. You're there because you're bound to be there, no choice or recompense involved. And when it rains?

When was the last time you threw up for an entire english rainstorm? Poor guys.