Horror movies, haunted houses and the nutritional info on the back of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups aren't the only things out there to scare us senseless.

Sports mascots would like to terrify us into chronic nightmares as well.

Of course, not all mascots are designed to make our skin crawl. Heck, most of the ones that make us want to scrub our eyes and hippocampuses with toothpaste didn't set out to do so. 

Someone somewhere thought they were a good idea—cute, endearing, clever, perhaps even suitable for children. 

In every instance that followed, they were hopelessly and hauntingly wrong.

Honorable Mention: Pierre the Pelican (New Orleans Pelicans)

Pierre the Pelican received a rebrand in 2014. The New Orleans Pelicans called it reconstructive surgery to fix a broken beak so that he would look "less scary."

Great job, everyone.

The current iteration is noticeably less terrifying, but not altogether uncreepy. Shooting guard-sized pelicans wearing clown makeup over their feathers doesn't scream "warm and cuddly."

At least we're free from the previous version of Pierre (pictured above). He came straight out of Pet Cemetery, a horrorcore Barney web series or both.

10. Gritty (Philadelphia Flyers)

Gritty's scare factor doesn't rocket off the charts until you stare at him for a few beats.

Seven-foot fuzzy orange things with unblinking eyes so piercing they would make Elizabeth Holmes cop to deceiving you are visually and viscerally scarring.

Why doesn't he blink? Why is he so tall? Why doesn't he blink? Is he a Sesame Street outcast? The red-yellow sibling to the purple blob peddling milkshakes? A Muppet understudy? Why doesn't he blink? How is leering at hockey fans adding value to the sport? Why doesn't he blink? What's with this need for so much social media attention? The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives cast members aren't as obsessed with going viral.

And oh, finally: Why doesn't he blink?

9. Wild Wing (Anaheim Ducks)

Donald Duck's undead alter ego wouldn't be so hair-raising if not for the orange eyes. They alone make Wild Wing into the titular villain from an animated horror movie—an aquatic cyborg powered by AI who promises his intentions are pure but actually wants to decapitate us all with the blades on his ice skates.

So no, Anaheim Ducks. I would not like to request his appearance at my next event.

8. Sebastian the Ibis (Miami Hurricanes)

The University of Miami has apparently never seen an Ibis or even a picture of one.

Sebastian isn't an Ibis. He's a wilder-eyed Daffy Duck with Eugene Levy's eyebrows and Seagull feathers. He's angry, confused or trying to divide 1,357 by 17 in his head.

That description doesn't sound like it would give you night terrors and/or prevent you from visiting a pond, lake, river, stream, marsh, beach or petting zoo ever again. And yet...

7. Purdue Pete (Purdue University)

Cartoonishly large heads are always jarring. Purdue Pete's is made worse by the trademark hard hat and serial-killer gloves.

Don't get yourself started on the facial features. They're unsettling.

Purdue Pete is presumably supposed to represent the everyday boilermaker tradesman. Raise your hand if you knew that meant giving him the eyes of Woody from Toy Story and the proportions of Wreck-It Ralph.

6. Pistol Pete (Oklahoma State)

Disproportionately enormous heads are always hit-or-miss. When you combine them with five o'clock shadow, caterpillar eyebrows, stick-on mustaches, demon eyes and traffic-cone hat, you get something worse than a miss.

You get Pistol Pete, the cowboy possessed by the world's surliest evil spirit, who prefers unmarked vans to horses and saloons and whose business card is a wanted poster.

5. Sparky The Sun Devil (Arizona State)

A Disney illustrator apparently designed Arizona State's official athletic mascot back in the 1940s. We must presume he wasn't happy at work, because Sparky the Sun Devil looks he is NC-17 Flounder from The Little Mermaid on PEDs, uses Crest White Strips like chewing tobacco, stole Poseidon's trident, copied Captain Hook's facial hair and converted off-brand Mickey Mouse ears into devil horns.

Also, if you're going to be a "Sun Devil," you should probably nail down the correct hue of the actual sun. Mind you, I'm not rooting for this Big Bird-on-a-mean-streak to be more orange. You can't unsee that.

As is, though, Sparky looks more like Rubber Duck Satan.

4. WuShock (Wichita State)

Emo-bodybuilder SpongeBob SquarePants isn't as comical to look at as you'd expect.

Wichita State says WuShock is a "big, bad, muscle-bound bundle of wheat." Squint hard enough, and...you still can't see it.

The hair extensions resemble carpet tassels. The grooves on the side of his face make him look like expired celery. Squidward wants his nose back.

WuShock's facial expression is unreadable. Is he happy? Mad? Excited? Going through protein-powder withdrawals? Protesting against fellow looksmaxxers with larger TikTok followings? It's all so chaotic and creepy.

3. Harvey the Hound (Calgary Flames)

What happens when you stumble upon a broken-down Chuck E. Cheese animatronic in a landfill, dress it like an Easter Bunny and tack on an ultra-long tongue cut from a felted-wool table runner?

Harvey the Hound.

Calgary's resident ghoulish puppy was apparently the first-ever NHL mascot. With results like this, it's shocking he wasn't the last.

2. Friar Dom (Providence College)

I was today-years-old when I learned that Jiminy Cricket-shaped wax candles could be members of the clergy.

Friar Dom's facial expression is often described as a grin. It's more like a sociopathic sneer.

The eyes are soulless, unfeeling. The cheekbones are giving off "got Botox and then immediately tried to swallow a hornet's nest" vibes. The Dominican cowl and robe might fit the character, but they also add to the Resin Reaper aura.

If opposable thumbs had faces, wore clothes and remained in a state of irreversible existential crisis, they'd look like Friar Dom.

1. King Cake Baby (New Orleans Pelicans)

Introduced to the world (for some reason) almost 20 years ago, King Cake Baby rose to infamy for looking like a Chucky doll attempting to rebrand himself as a Rugrats character whose scooter runs on infant tears and diaper is filled with Bubonic plague.

There's no explanation for why KCB was ever a vision in someone's head, let alone the official mascot of an NBA team. Then again, people have apparently paid three-digit hourly rates to hang out with Burger King's zombie offspring. Every single one of them should be put on a watchlist.

If you're wondering when the Pelicans retired King Cake Baby, the answer is they didn't. KCB cameos are a seasonal tradition these days—though there's also a chance he's standing behind you right now.