You ask for me at the bakery, And an unlucky number you’re handed. Next time go and buy some eggs, If you don’t want this number expanded.

I hum and whir with noble intent, until your patience has been spent. I’m full of paper, yet scream for more, then jam myself with page four.

I make brits and americans disagree, but I do not make them unhappy. People often like to eat either version of me.

You can not see me when I work. If I stop working you cannot see. Keep me wet and you'll be fine. Invisible to others unless you change my color.

I can contain soles or memories, but I cannot exist without the death of trees. People use me to hold long forgotten things.