I’m a five letter word. Remove my last two letters and I’m a synonym of drag. My second and third letters form an exclamation and my first and second letters are a homophone with a number. What am I?
Towel. Tow is a synonym of drag, ow is an exclamation when you’re hurt (and far more appropriate in mixed company than the four-letter alternatives) and to is a homophone of two.
When Florence and Willie finished playing darts, they proudly announced that their 3-digit scores added up to exactly 800 points. Furthermore, each of their scores shared the same 3 digits, without any repeating digits.
You could figure this out mathematically, but instead, I plugged in digits that added up to 10 for the first column, 9 for the second column (since you carry the 1) and 7 for the third column (again, because you’re carrying the 1).
A deck of cards. You put the cards on the table to play, and you cut the cards to mix them up, but you don’t eat them. Flowers is another possible answer.
You watch a group of words going to a party. A word either enters through one of two doors or is turned away by the guards. ‘HIM’ goes through door number one and ‘BUG’ goes through door number two. ‘HER’ is turned away. ‘MINT’ and ‘WEAVE’ go in through door one, ‘DOOR’ and ‘CORD’ take door two and ‘THIS’ and ‘That’ aren’t allowed in.
What determines whether a word can enter and which door they must use?
Door number one is for words composed entirely of capital letters written using only straight lines, such as A, E, F, H, and I. The entire set of letters allowed through door number one are AEFHIKLMNTVWXYZ. Door number two, as might be expected, is for words with capital letters that have a curve, including BCDGJOPQRSU. Any words composed of both straight and curved letters (or lowercase letters) are not allowed in. The word ‘THAT’ would have been sent through door number one, if the letters had been capitalized.