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Quite suddenly one morning, a flash flood swept through Mulla Nasruddin’s village. He barely managed to scramble to the roof of his house—and then it began to rain. “I am not afraid!” Mulla yelled up at the storm. “If I have faith, God will save me!”
The water continued to rise. Presently, a wooden raft floated by with two children on it. “Climb on, Mulla!” they called.
The Mulla laughed. “No need. God will save me,” he said.
It kept raining, and about half an hour later, a large canoe passed by. “There is room for you!” one woman shouted. “Grab my hand!”
Again, Mulla declined. “God will save me,” he told her.
The storm thundered on throughout the day, and finally Mulla Nasruddin had to climb to the very top of his roof. The water was up to his waist when a fishing boat came by. “Get in, Mulla!” yelled a young man. “We are here to rescue you!”
“No! My faith will not be shaken!” the Mulla yelled back. “God will save me!”
The fishermen left, and soon after, Mulla Nasruddin was swept away by the current and drowned. When he got to Heaven, he asked God what had happened. “Where did I go wrong? My faith was steadfast; why didn’t You save me?”
“You idiot,” God replied. “I sent you a raft, a canoe and a fishing boat!”
Mulla Nasruddin had just won the local election, and to celebrate, the mayor of the town had invited him to go turkey hunting. After searching all day in the jungle, they finally found a turkey. The mayor shot, but missed it.
“Brilliant!” exclaimed the Mulla.
The mayor spun around, enraged. “How dare you make fun of me, Mulla Nasruddin!”
“I wasn’t making fun of you,” Mulla explained. “I was talking to the turkey.”
One evening, Mulla Nasruddin was sitting with his friend at the tobacco shop. “My grandfather lived to be ninety-eight years old, and never even used glasses,” the shopkeeper bragged.
“Well, what’s so great about that?” replied the Mulla. “Lots of people would rather drink straight from the bottle.”
Mulla Nasruddin and his family had gone out for a picnic near the ocean. His wife was standing near the edge of a high cliff, watching the waves crash over the rocks far below, when their young son walked up beside her.
“Dad says this is a dangerous spot,” said the boy. “He says you have to either back up, or give him the sandwiches.”
Mulla Nasruddin was running for office. After giving a political speech for a large crowd, he asked if there were any questions. A man in front raised his hand, and Mulla gestured for him to speak. “One question, sir,” said the man. “Do you drink alcohol?”
“That depends,” replied the Mulla. “Is your question an accusation or an invitation?”
One evening, Mulla Nasruddin was passing the time sitting at the tobacco shop. The shopkeeper was worried that his business was declining. “It’s all those health nuts,” he said. “Do you think it’s true that smoking will shorten our days?”
“That is the honest truth,” said Mulla Nasruddin. “I quit smoking for three days last summer, and they were the longest three days of my life!”
A philosopher was passing through town, and Mulla Nasruddin stopped to sit and listen to his lecture in the town square. After the talk, Mulla walked up to the man and shook his hand. “I just wanted to thank you,” he said. “I can’t remember a more enjoyable evening.”
“Finally, someone who appreciates my work!” the philosopher beamed. “You understood my point about the futility of inquiry, then?”
“Not exactly,” said the Mulla. “But you did cure my insomnia.”
One night, Mulla Nasruddin came home with lipstick on his collar. His wife was furious. “Who did this?” she demanded. “My maid?”
“No,” said the Mulla.
“No!” said Mulla indignantly. “Don’t you think I have any friends of my own?”
One evening, Mulla Nasruddin’s old friend came to town unexpectedly. The two of them were enjoying a bottle of whiskey near the riverbank.
“Mulla, old boy, how old are you now?” the friend asked.
“Forty-five,” the Mulla answered.
“Forty-five? But that’s what you told me ten years ago!” his friend exclaimed.
“That’s right,” Mulla replied, “And I always stand by my word.”
It was monsoon season, and after weeks of rain, a sunny day finally came. Rather than enjoying it properly, Mulla Nasruddin’s wife had convinced him that it was the perfect opportunity to go up and fix the roof. Grumbling, the old Mulla went up and was doing the work when a stranger walked by and knocked on his door.
“What do you want?” Mulla shouted down at him.
“Come down here and I will tell you,” said the man.
The Mulla angrily climbed down the ladder. “Well?” he demanded.
“Well, I’m a poor old man. Can you spare some money?” the stranger asked.
Mulla turned and started climbing up the ladder again.” Follow me up to the roof,” he said.
The stranger did as he asked, and when he reached the top of the ladder and stepped onto the roof, he said, “Well?”
“Well,” said the Mulla, “the answer is no, you can’t have any money. Now get off my roof!”
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