My color says I’m innocent, but not all agree. I can build up and tear down, based on the angle you see. If you use me, you may lose me, if you add complexity.

Spaghetti I eat, bad robots I slay. I work with aliens every darn day. Rocks I punch, a career gone South. Keep my wife's name out your bleeping mouth.

'Impossibility' that I was made. Conspiracy, as some would say. A scheme, they would have you pay. Aliens must be the only way.

Whatever isn't beneath us. Is that not the answer? No? Then what was the question?

I live in a place where no fire can glow, yet I cook for the masses with a spatula’s show. My pants are square, my pineapple home is beyond compare, from jellyfish fields to boating-school woes - Who am I, the sponge every kid already knows?