A girl was attending her mother’s funeral, where she met a man. She was very intrigued by the man and she was interested in getting to know him. As she was making her rounds, she realized she had not gotten the man’s name or number. Later, when she went to find him, he had already left. A week later, she murdered her older brother to find the man. Why?
She was hoping the man would show up again, at her brother’s funeral this time.
We are all very little creatures. All of us have different features. One of us in glass is set. One of us you’ll find in jet. Another you may see in tin, and a fourth is boxed within. If the fifth you should pursue, it can never fly from you. What are we?
8 + 8 = 91. Change one thing, besides the numbers, to make this equation correct.
Turn the piece of paper upside down and you get 8 + 8 = 16. Or, change = to ≠.
My neck is white, my head is tawny and so are my sides. I am swift in my stride. I bear weapons of battle. On my back there is hair and the same on my cheeks. Over my eyes two ears stand up. I walk on my toes in the green grass. My doom is certain if anyone finds me, if a slaughterous fighter finds me hidden where I make my home, bold with my bairns. And there I abide with my little family when the stranger comes to my very doors. Death is their doom. I must carry them off, save them by flight with fear in my heart away from my home. If he crowds me hard, moving on his belly, I dare not abide that fierce one in my burrow (that would be surely not a good counsel) but bravely I must with both hands and feet create a path through the high hill. Easily I can save them, my beloved kin, if I can bring my household by a secret way through the hollow hill; for there I need fear never a whit the murderous whelp. If the hateful foe follows me hard through the narrow track he shall have no lack of the clash of battle when we meet in the burrow; when I get to the top of the hill and turn on him with weapons of war, whom I formerly fled from.
A man was found dead with a cassette recorder in one hand and a gun in the other. When the police came in, they immediately pressed the play button on the cassette. He said “I have nothing else to live for. I can’t go on,” then the sound of a gunshot. After listening to the cassette tape, the police knew that it was not a suicide, but a homicide. How did they know?
If the man shot himself while he was recording, how did he rewind the cassette tape?
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