I saw the devil in the wood grain of a piece of lumber once after a night of moonshine.
My childhood home had those clear grained book matched wood veneer interior doors. One of them made a monster face or so I thought at age five. It was at the end of the hall opposite my bedroom. It didn’t keep me from Saturday morning cartoons, however. I’d grab my blanket, run down the hall and throw it over my face as I passed that door. Smacked right into it once, lol. I think that cured me.