In a collective, I'm bunnies under your bed, Everyone turns to me when they are dead, I'm dander, I'm fluff, I'm cells that are shed, If I'm not on your stuff I'm in a hoover instead

Oh dear lord I seem to have broken my gourd Whatever will I use to fix it?

I look like everyone else, yet beneath the skin I do not belong. I excite, disturb, and twist expectation, living beyond ordinary perception.

We're gonna do this to the town with a can of red pigment! But don't get yourself stuck in a corner with all the wet liquid!

What do you call someone who isn’t a dad but tells dad jokes?