I remember some stuff around that, and I'm just kinda wondering how it all worked out...
I had something happen to me that was similiar. I have a deep seated pathological fear of furby's. So my parents bought me one for Christmas. I could FEEL the evil coming out of the damn thing. So Christmas night, I'm sleeping over at my parents place. I wake up for no apparent reason. The freakin Furby is facing out the window at the moon. I swear to the Gods I'm not making this up. He opens his eyes a couple seconds after I jolt awake and starts laughing. Pure evil laughter.
I'd had artillery rounds that landed short that frightened me less than that stuffed animal.
I ripped out the batteries and locked it in a small handgun safe. Put weights on top of the safe. Tried to sleep again. Didn't do a good job. Next day called up some buddies. We held a summery field trial for the Furby, convicted it of crimes against humanity, and called a firing squad. Blind folded the furby, gave it a last cigarette, and opened fire. So it does prove the old theory, enough buckshot will take down an evil demonic entity.
Sprayed the remains with a bit of holy water, smoked with sage (ol pagan trick to sanctify something), and then burned the remains with a LOT of gasoline. I did take photos of the execution. I'm sure I'll find them someday when I really go through my stuff.