I never had much of a problem with scary movies as a kid. Then again, my mom did take me to see "The Amityville Horror" in 1979, and I have a vague memory of what might have been a re-release of "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" a year or so earlier. I'm 33 now, you do the math.

But the thing that truly creeped me out and made me believe that there was a malicious force of evil and destruction in my bedroom was one of these:

I swore its eyes followed me around the room (especially at night), and it always managed to work its way to the front of the shelf even after I put other toys and stuffed critters in front of it. I hated that damn monkey. It's part of the reason I didn't watch any of the Planet of the Apes movies until I was around 12 or so. I don't know what ever happened to it, but if it showed up today I would hack it to pieces, burn the remnants, stick the ashes in a bag, tie the bag to a concrete block and drop it in the lake.