Sometimes I'm buttery, sometimes I'm bad. I can make a whole sports arena sad, I can make a whole bakery smell rad.

I am the strict taskmaster inside your computer And also sound like a high ranking military official Despite sounding so important, I'm also just a little guy full of starch.

Long but little, stubby pegs. Used in WWII for sniffing out bad eggs. Bad with hamsters, kids, and stairs. Sharp teef, German, little care.

I promise new wonders, I beckon with flair, But open me once - you’ve been caught unaware. My roots are melodic, my purpose is play, I’ve been fooling the web since the MySpace days. What am I?

I am a disease that children adore, I am decay in disguise, yet you ask for more. You don’t want me inside your head, Yet you watch me for hours instead.