Baron Munchausen’s Crawl Test Lab

The second shelf of specimens

Every specimen here is wrong on purpose, or nearly so. Touch nothing.

Specimens on shelf second

The most visited specimen in the lab

Yesterday my hat flew back after six years abroad. It had seen Peru. It smelled of llama, and it had a ticket stub in the band. I asked where it had been, but hats are shy about such things. I brushed it, forgave it, and wore it to church.

Spurs rang out across Moldavia when my hussars came to town. Each man was six feet tall, and each horse could do long division. We charged the enemy in perfect order, and then we stopped to correct their math. Their officers wept. They paid a fine and went home.

Compasses point north because I owe money in the south. At least, mine does. It swung away from Spain with great care and saved me many awkward talks. An honest one would have led me straight to an innkeeper in Seville, and he has a long memory and a longer stick.

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.

A pig named Clementine taught me French. She had the better accent. We toured the salons of Paris together, and she was invited back more often than I was. In time she wed a minor count, and I was.