Answer:
I am the kind of dog that chases anything red.
What did the thief get for stealing the calendar?
Searing 'cross the pitch-black skies I scream in celebration Yet moments later my outburst through I am naught but imagination.
I crushed on Wendy Darling.
I produce wool and spit a lot
It flows out of the soil, It burns you if it boils, And holds us in its coils, More valuable than gold, As black as it is old.