Puddle Demons: More Trouble Than They're Worth

I think that I may have mentioned puddle demons to you before- and my sadly unsuccessful attempt to sacrifice my vampire minion to one. I can't think of anything better to write about today, so I'm going to tell you the whole story.

It all started when I, um, acquired an ancient and very rare guide to minor demons. Most of them are fairly silly and not worth summoning, (Do you really need a tiny chaos demon who hides your socks when you're not looking? Does anyone?), but I became interested when I heard about the puddle demon. These little creatures haunt spills of water (and other liquids, I suppose) and the sorcerer who controls one can use it to spy on others from nearly anywhere. Many magic users are wary of mirrors, and keep them covered when not in use. They know that a skilled practitioner can use mirrors like windows to spy, but who would expect watchful eyes behind a puddle of water? I was elated!

There was the minor detail that summoning a puddle demon requires a sacrifice, in, you guessed it, a puddle. But I wasn't worried. I had a hapless assistant at hand, and a shallow ornamental pond in my overgrown backyard. It would be easy. I thought so, anyway.

I quickly took my unsuspecting sidekick outside and started the initial incantation. The smelly water in my pond began to glow and move. Little yellow eyes peered malevolently up from the depths, and I heard cackling and snarling. I pushed Mort in. He disappeared, and the pond went dark. For a minute, nothing happened. Then, with a hiss of rage, the pond spit Mort back out. The little eyes were back, glittering even brighter with fury. Apparently, if a sacrifice is already dead, it doesn't count.

The puddle demons and I preceded to have a long argument over the differences between "undead" and "really dead." The outcome was that they would agree to occasionally work for me, but only if they felt like it. And that they would voluntarily summon themselves to my house whenever they wanted. All in all, it was one of my most annoying failed experiments.

The end result of all this is that puddle demons regularly haunt my house. Spill a glass of blood in the kitchen, and in a few minutes you'll find it scooting down the hall, accompanied by the sound of tiny laughter. Pools of extract of gecko usually end up in the dining room, while snake tears can usually be found on the bathroom floor. Don't ask me why. I honestly don't know if there's a method to the madness.

Mort still doesn't know that I was trying to sacrifice him. He thinks I was trying to give him a bath.