fear of the lobster tank at the fancy restaurant breaking and the lobsters coming to kill me specifically because i blew raspberries and made funny faces at them
fear of accidentally knocking over a line of bikers motorcycles, instilling a hatred within the gang that last for years and culminates in the stalking and killing of you and your family
fear of forgetting about that cottage cheese you left in the inner reaches of your fridge for so long that it develops free thought and plots to kill you