When I was still a little kid and would have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, I would all too frequently get a few tentative steps away from the bed and then flash on this commercial and its somewhat creepy critters, the Scrubbing Bubbles.
I'd imagine that these things were about to rush my naked feet from under a bookshelf, reducing me to bones and pyjamas in mere seconds. Oddly enough, I was not alone in finding those Bubbles disturbing.
If I made it to the bathroom, the toilet lid would inevitably be down and I would have to wrestle with whether to open it, afraid that, should I do so, a severed head would be inside, its dead eyes staring up at me.
If that weren't enough, I was terrified that, should I look at a window on my way to or from the bathroom, I would see the (also severed) head of John Carradine floating just outside it, making one of those scary faces at me that he could do so well. This, I figured, would probably make me crazy.
In retrospect, it's a wonder I ever went to the bathroom at all.
