True story.

When I was younger Furbys were the biggest thing ever. They were in happy meals as toys, commercials every where, the whole nine yards. I had a few, but I never really played with them as they freaked me out.
I stored them in my closet. I guess I had one that malfunctioned, and would go off in the middle of the night. Loudly. Of course it scared me but I took the batteries out, put it back in the closet (under some clothes to be sure) and went back to bed. I woke up the next morning to find the little bastard sitting in the middle of my room. Out of it's box, which was still in the closet. It's batteries were back in. I nearly shit myself I was so afraid. I threw that thing out faster than anything.
The next night I hear some loud noise coming from my closet. I turn on the light and walk over, and it's the same fucking Furby. I panic so badly thinking this stupid mass of fur and cogs is going to murder me that I take it and run into my garage and beat the piss out of it with a hammer, then throw it out.
I tell my parents and sister about the demon Furby, my family tells me I'm over reacting etc...typical horror movie type of bullshit. So I go upstairs to my room and the fucking god damn Furby is sitting in my room, taped together and talking. I literally started bawling my eyes out. I had no clue how I was going to appease this demon, especially after I probably pissed it the hell off by breaking it's body.
The Furby turns on and starts talking, "Hello." I asked what it wants, freaking the fuck out. I swear he was looking directly into my eyes and soul, and says he needs about tree fiddy. And it was about that time I realized this Furby was about eight stories tall and was a crustacean from the Paleozoic era, and I said, "God damn it, Loch Ness Monster, I already told you I don't have tree fiddy," and I told him to get out of my room.
Then I hear someone hysterically laughing behind me. I turned around to see who it was, and it was my Furby again.
TL;DR- surprise ninja