Mobile issues, none

Onions won me a wife. I peeled one in front of her father, and the old miser wept for the first time in his life. He gave me her hand, her dowry, and the key to the pantry. I still keep the onion in a velvet box.

Prague needed a bridge, so I lay down across the river. Carts rolled over my chest. A wedding party danced on my knees. After two days the masons finished the stone one, and I got up stiff but proud. The toll I charged paid for a lovely coat.

Her Imperial Highness asked me to fetch a star for her hair. I borrowed a long ladder from a Kiev fire brigade. The star was hot, so I carried it home in a soup pot. She wore it to the ball, and the ladies all left early, sunburned.

Laughter was banned in Krakow by a sad old king. I arrived in town with a feather. I crept into his room that same night and went to work on his feet. The palace shook, the ban was lifted, and I got three castles and a lifelong tickling contract.

Whales snore, as any sailor knows, but one in the North Sea kept our whole ship awake. I rowed out at midnight.