Everything starts with a multilayered crime.
You may write on me, but never in my language.
I have heels and faces, each turning into the other.
Keep your head in the game and you might win this imaginary game of tennis.
Live on this, or catch it dressing.
I most often contain food, living or dead. In some situations a lift of a finger is enough to create the latter.
One is not not enough, give me a bird and we can get it done.
An ordinary flat bird, evolved faster than all other animals.
If struck down, I will meet mine if I lose one.
I am filled daily with energy. I fill myself with two things, one to break and one to be broken. Without the first I am pointless and without the second the first destroys me. What am I?
Football, baseball, and tar. What do they have in common?
This happens when your superior leaves his hat in the sun too long.