Sandals

My foot hurts. As I walk about in my sandals, distrusted by the Germans who feel I am disrespectful of their winter, every step I take sends a shooting pain up the middle of my foot.

When I get home I inspect the bottom of my foot for any clue as to whence this mysterious pain began. There is a tiny red dot on the sole of my foot that seems to coincide with the pain. I try it with my finger. A shot of pain strikes up my leg. Yeah it hurts, but I can't leave it alone.

I pick at it with my fingernail. It seems there is a small corner of glass embedded in my foot. It dig at it and dig at it. I slowly uncover it. It is much larger than the original red dot on my foot. As if it comes from within. Finally, with the help of a pair of tweezers I manage to get it out. It turns out that it is not really glass, but a diamond.

Over the next several weeks, I develop several mysterious aches, which inevitably yield me precious jewels. It is quite painful, believe me, but I write this off as an acceptable trade off for the great wealth I am amassing. I will return to Prague as a king.