Question: There are 2 doors: 1 leads to Heaven
2 leads to Hell
There is a guard at each door: 1 always lies
1 always tells the truth

you can only ask the guards 1 question
what do you ask them?

Question: a man has lived in a house his whole life. One day he decides to leave so he waters all of his plants and turns off the lights and leaves, never to return again. The result of this kills 6 people. How?

Question: mike and june were found dead of natural causes. the only thing in the room was broken glass and water. their were no marks on the body's and they did not drown. their was no electricity in the room and it was ventalated how did they die

Question: You are at a crossroad. There are no signs, and only thing there is are two twins. They both know the correct way, but one of them always tells truth and another one always lies. You don't know which one. What should you ask one of them, not knowing does he lie or tell truth, to find out which way should you go?

Question: what do you take away from 6 to equal 9?
?-6=9

Question: Marking mortal privation, when firmly in place.
An enduring summation, inscribed in my face.
What am I?

Question: TWO FROGS WHERE SITTING ON A LOG. ONE DECIDED TO JUMP OFF, HOW MANY FROGS WILL BE LEFT ON THE LOG?

Question: What has six legs, two heads, four ears, two hands, but walks on four feet?

Question: you are in a house with no electricity. you go through the red door, then you go through the black door, then you go through the orange door, then you go through the white door, then you go through the purple door, then you go through the yellow door, then you go through the green door, then you go through the brown door, then you go through the special door. there is an alligator and an electric chair. which would you rather die?

Question: I'm by nature solitary, scarred by spear
and wounded by sword, weary of battle.
I frequently see the face of war, and fight
hateful enemies; yet I hold no hope
of help being brought to me in the battle,
before I'm eventually done to death.
In the stronghold of the city sharp-edged swords,
skilfully forged in the flame by smiths,
bite deeply into me. I can but await
a more fearsome encounter; it is not for me
to discover in the city any of those doctors
who heal grievous wounds with roots and herbs.
The scars from sword wounds gape wider and wider;
death blows are dealt to me by day and by night.

What am I?