Black line tattoo of a snarling monster with clawed hands reaching above the words Grrr Argh, shown on bare skin in a close-up photo.

Snarling monster with Grrr Argh lettering

Lettering · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A cartoon-style monster with a wide toothy mouth and clawed hands reaching outwards is drawn in thin black outline. The words Grrr Argh. sit beneath it in hand-drawn black lettering with uneven strokes. The ink is all black on pale skin, and the close-up framing centres the design with a plain background of skin.

Lettering Other Monster Creature Claw Teeth Lettering

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Hush now, and pull that stool nearer the fire, because the snow has shut the road and nobody is going anywhere before Thursday. You want the one about Mab Tallow's monster? Old Fenwick swore it was true, and he never once told a lie before breakfast.

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The creature lived under the bridge at Saltmarrow, where the river ran slow and brown. It had hands like garden rakes and a mouth wide enough to take a loaf whole, and every night it climbed the bank to roar at the lamplit windows. The trouble was that its roar had only two words in it, and they were the wrong two. Grrr, it went, then Argh, very loud, and then it would stand there waiting for the village to scream. The village did not scream. The village said, Oh, it's that again, and put the kettle on.

Mab Tallow, who baked for the whole valley and had flour up to her elbows at all hours, went down one night with a tray of cinnamon buns still warm. She set them on the bridge rail and said, 'You sound like a man with a sore tooth. Have one.' The creature glared at her with its small angry eyes. Then it took a bun, swallowed it in one bite, and said, with terrible dignity, 'Grrr. Argh.' Mab said, 'Well, that's better, and you'll want to say it softer if you're calling at my door.'

The monster never did learn to frighten anyone after that. It took to sitting under the bridge with its clawed hands folded, waiting for the Thursday tray, and on the coldest nights it hummed the only tune it knew, which was mostly Grrr. Argh. And that, my lovelies, is why the bakers of Saltmarrow still leave a bun on the rail when the snow comes down.