Answer:
I run up and down the stairs without moving. What am I?
I can never be stolen from you. I am owned by everyone. Some have more some have less.
Wind and cord combine, buzzing in the box. In all this we find, though to some the use is lost. What am I?
I give people a huge fright, but at the end I'm sweet. I normally celebrate at night, when there's less heat. What am I?
Searing 'cross the pitch-black skies I scream in celebration Yet moments later my outburst through I am naught but imagination.
Why was the cook arrested?