Sitemap issues, near miss

Three bears stole my boots one night in Lithuania. I gave chase in my socks. The bears ran for nine miles, and then they grew tired. So I sat them down and taught them some manners. Today they bow to every traveler, wipe their paws at the door, and still owe me one left boot.

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.

Giants are poor at sums. I met one near Bergen who wished to trade his mountain for three of my buttons. I agreed, then asked him for change. He gave me a valley and two small lakes. Later he came back with a lawyer, but the lawyer was a small one.

Lanterns are no use to me on dark roads. I simply open one eye a bit wider. In Bosnia I lit up a whole valley that way and read a letter from my mother. Farmers took it for sunrise and began to plow. I shut my eye and left politely.

Grand Viziers do not often blush, but.