Missing titles

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.

Waterfalls need a firm hand. In the Canadian wilds I met a very large one, loud and full of itself. I took a deep breath and sucked it up like a noodle. I swam home with my cheeks full. Then I spat it back, and it has been humble since.

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.

Snoring is a talent, and mine once saved a fleet. We sat becalmed near Malta with limp sails. I lay down on the stern and slept after a heavy meal. My breath filled every sail. We made Naples in two days, with the crew tiptoeing around so as not to wake me.

Walrus hunting bored me, so I took up walrus diplomacy. Off Greenland.