This is the story of a thing called Karl.

My flatmate brought this thing to our flat as a decoration, and I acidentally showed my fear of it. It may seem like an irrational fear, but it is a fear that has been built up over the past month or so. They cottoned on. The thing in question is about 1 1/2 feet high, a thing with no face that wears black clothes. Its hands are groutesque; big and veiny and horrible. The whole thing is horrible. It was until recently that I would open my door in the morning and the thing would be standing just outside. I couldn't go past it so had to sit in my room and bang on the walls until someone moved it. Anyway, for a while this stopped, and eventually I felt I could open my door without looking like an animal on the lookout for predators. I could feel safe in the knowledge that it was all over and I wouldn't have to worry about it for a while. However, last night while I was sleeping, three of my flatmates came into my room with it in the intention of leaving it by my bed. I woke up and started shouting and screaming at them to get the hell out. They did, and I knew it wasn't over.
This morning, this view greeted me. I was so angry, I text my flatmate to come and take it down. He did. I then asked him to put it in a black bag. He did. I then carried the thing down to our communal bins, and in a sigh of relief, tossed it into the back bin with the intention of never seeing it again. I felt so happy. But waiting for the lift, I heard a thundering Rob (owner of Karl) coming down the stairs. I jumped into the lift and back in the flat he came in and was swearing his head off at me. I simply said he deserved it.

Anyway, ten minutes late he came back into the flat with the fucking black bag I had thrown it into the bin in.

The war begins.