Two of your neighbors were arguing about if the first man’s peacock laid an egg in the seconds man’s garden, who would own the egg. They asked you to solve their dilemma. What would you tell them?
I lack much reason, but often rhyme, And require logic to pass the time, To get the words to tell your kin, Look for clues that lie within, Though all are different, they act the same, The answer is practically in the name.
I am pronounced as one letter but written as three, There are two of me, I am single, I am double, I can be blue, brown, black or green. I can be read from right to left or left to right and am still the same.
I’m not the sort that’s eaten, I’m not the sort you bake, Don’t put me in an oven, I don’t taste that great, But when applied correctly, around me you will find, Problems are so simple when my digits come to mind.
A traffic light. It has three “eyes” (the red, orange and green lights) and the leg is the pole holding it up. Many people beg the light to stay green as they’re approaching.
You’re in a build headed to the fourth floor. When you reach the second floor, you’ve gone one floor and have two more floors left, so you’re 1/3 of the way. But at the same time, you’re on the 2nd floor and have two more floors to get to the 4th floor, thus you’re halfway there.
This doesn’t work in Europe, because they typically refer to the “first floor” as the ground floor, and the first floor is one story up.