I’m taken whole or crushed for taste, I keep loose metal held in place. I fall from trees, a simple bite, A quiet food in autumn light. I’m what bursts forth when urges race, A wayward shot with questionable grace.

I'm measured in units of potassium-rich produce on Reddit, and I a pretend I’m a phone. What am I?

I’m a stony creature, perched high above, I never blink, I never shove. I spit water when it rains, yet I feel no joy, no aches, no pains.

Some say I'm needed to educate and useful for research. Some say I don't do anything useful, and call me a prison. Either way, I'm a place to observe the occupants and entertain the masses.

In the kitchen I may help cook sliders. Though my name sounds like a spitting spider.