I lurk in your kitchen, ready to spit out food you put in my mouth. With my dial, I offer you many false choices. Truthfully, I have only three: One - Do nothing. Two - Do what you expect. Three through fifteen - Burn my contents so far beyond recognition that even the best forensic investigators couldn't tell what you originally put in me.

A carpenter's best friend, I'm always within reach. Metric or standard, Phillips or flathead, no matter the job, I hold one of each.

Why did the car get a flat tire? Because there was a...

I’m white or colored, but have no skin. I have a body, but no organs within. I’m used to build knowledge, yet I’m slowly consumed by it. I leave a ghost of myself behind whenever I speak. What am I?

I hold a small jungle, leafy and green, a tiny ecosystem behind a glass screen.