Mullah Nasruddin and his young son were driving in the country one winter. It was snowing. Their bullock-cart broke down. They finally reached a farmhouse and were welcomed for the night. The house was cold, and the attic in which they were invited to spend the night was like an icebox. Stripping to his underwear, the Mullah jumped into a featherbed and pulled the blankets over his head. The young man was slightly embarrassed. "Excuse me, dad", he said, "don't you think we ought to say our prayers before going to bed?" The Mullah stuck one eye out from under the covers. "Son", he said, "I keep prayed up ahead for situations just like this one. |
