When in the depths of the witching hour
He sits atop a table
Anxious depression fills his head
As he thinks of those more able
They're committing heinous crimes by night
And sleeping through the day
You may know him, so may others
Who is this, you say?
I am the father of this giant
Figuratively...
As a summer game, a friend of mine (not sure which one, she's staying anonymous) created an email that includes a riddle. The answer to the riddle is the password to the email address she created for this game... And this one is a question about something made of clay in Mesopotamia..here's the...