My name makes me sound like I’m funny, But there’s no red in my nose It’s more sunny. My kind starred in a flick that was set in the blue, That made a red and white mouse lots of money.

I am born. I die. I eat, breathe, and produce waste, yet I am not alive. What am I?

I’m already dead, call my next of kin! My homophone fits in the overhead bin. What am I?

I rule the house, though I pay no rent, I sleep all day, my energy spent. You serve me meals, you clean my throne, Yet still you think you own the home.

I turn without a dancer’s grace, And carve destruction in my place. A silent eye amid the fight, My voice a howl, my touch a bite.