Round, oval, square, or any shape. I hold all sorts of goodies like candy, gifts, eggs or fruit. Woven, wooden, felt, plastic - I can be made of anything. Balls like to go through me as well.

I am not a plant, though gardens drown in me. I have no veins, yet I bleed the sky. I am countless, yet singularly blamed. I feast without a mouth, kill without a hand, and when I rule, oceans go silent. What am I?

Shirley Temple wears me on her head, Singapore slings me, and it sounds like Sundays aren't the same without me. What am I?

In the hands of a monkey I gum up the gears A simple design That’s lasted for years In heartbreak or sadness I’m felt in your gut Or, grip me tight to bust a nut

in a stream of yellow I flow from the tip, a vinegarish flavor, a delicious dip. from pretzels to hotdogs, I make things just right, but in delis, I’d better get me some hot spicy brown.