"Can you go down to the basement to get (insert random thing my parents apparently keep in the basement)?"
This question terrifies me to the core. When I was younger, I had Cocoa, a 110-lb Weimeraner who could scare away anything by just standing there. Now, I have Maggie, the pint-sized Corgi, and Zola, the snorty Bulldog who will just lick you and smell your pants legs. These are not very effective in combating the evil that lurks in the darkness of basements everywhere.
I can't really explain why I have this fear. It's not like my parents' basement has the horrifying heater monster (or whatever that thing was) in "Home Alone," but it's just creepy. My dad has his workshop down there, and Christmas presents are wrapped during the holiday season. A lot of childhood memories have retired there, so it really should NOT be as scary as I make it out to be.
It could go back to the fact that I watched "Unsolved Mysteries" way too much as a kid. People find dead bodies in basements! Anything related with the dark will mean that you will be kidnapped and raped!! And only Robert Stack (RIP, Scary-Voiced Man) and his pleas will have your case be solved. This is why I avoid phone booths. You'd think it's because I have a cell phone, but it's not. It's because some girl was calling her boyfriend in a reenactment on "Unsolved Mysteries" and then she was violently shoved in a green pickup and NEVER HEARD FROM AGAIN. It's also why I always carry a sharp object with me when I have to let the dogs out after it gets dark. The wind bristling through the bushes just has to be a murderer who has staked out my home and now is his perfect opportunity. And it's why I run up the stairs when I turn the lights off to go to bed.
Alright, now I'm going to have trouble sleeping tonight. And I'll be using the front door entrance to get to my car for the rest of the week.