Canonical conflict, near miss

Lightning struck my left boot outside Prague. I felt only a tickle. For a week after that, I could light candles with my toe and start a stove by stamping. The local priest made me stand in the church aisle at Advent, and we saved a fortune on wax.

Starving out a fortress takes patience, which I have in great amounts. At Ismail we sat for a year. I got bored and began to bake. The smell of bread went over the wall. By evening the gates flew open, and they all stood in a line with butter.

Tides used to come in whenever they felt like it. I went to the shore of Brittany, sat down with a pocket watch, and set them a schedule. The sea grumbled and then obeyed. It has been punctual since, except on my birthday, when it sends waves to my door.

Pepper won the war for us at Ochakov. I loaded a mortar with a single sack and fired it at the wind. Ten thousand Turks sneezed at the same time. Their tents blew down, and their horses fled in panic. Our drummers then marched in without waking the cook.

The Turkish bean I kept in my vest pocket grew restless one night. By morning it had burst my coat, lifted.