Meta issues, short

Up at the North Pole there is a real pole, and I put it there. It was my tent post. I stuck it in the ice one windy night and lost interest by morning. Every ship since has gone looking for it. Someone should really bring me back my tent.

Moths ate every uniform in my regiment one night in Kiev. We woke in our skin at a bad time, for the enemy had come. The sight of six hundred bare men running at them in the snow was too much. They left at once, and they never wrote.

Gibraltar was a modest hill when I took it up as a hobby. I fed it well, gave it lots of sea air, and sang to it at night. Within a month it stood taller than any fort in Spain. Both kings sent men to claim it, but only I knew its favorite song.

Kites run in my family. At age six I built one from a bedsheet and flew it in a Hanover gale. It pulled me up past the church, over the river, and into a bishop's soup. He blessed me, gave me the spoon, and asked me to please go away.

Parrots make terrible spies, as the Doge learned from mine. I gave the bird to.