A few, yeah. My grandmother was renting a room to this really lonely 'smithing student from Florida. Gunsmith school had been put on hold. The guy was working two jobs and had long been complaining about how he didn't get more than a few hours of sleep on any given day. He spent any free time he managed to find couped up in the room not speaking a word to anyone. No girlfriend, no friends to go grab beers with, no hobbies, no exercise.
After a couple of years of this, he started telling my grandmother that my uncle (who took out the basement studio) was taking metal coat hangers, straightening them out, and pushing them through the floor and poking him in his bed at night. He even said, "I know you'll think I'm crazy, but..." He was always a pretty weird guy; he had this listless, spacey stare when he talked. Decent enough bloke, but he really cracked his eggs. Him and my uncle didn't get along as it was, and my grandmother decided she didn't want to risk this loon emptying my uncle's guts out with a .30 caliber.

