Mulla Nasrudin was telling his wife
about a dream he had experienced the night before. "It was terrible,"
he said. "I was at a birthday party at Joe's house. His mother had baked a
chocolate cake three feet high, and when she cut it everybody was given a piece
that was so large that it hung over the sides of the plate. Then she dipped up
some homemade ice cream. She had so much of it that she had to give each one of
us our share in a soup bowl."
"What was so terrible about that
dream?" asked his wife.
"OH," said Nasrudin, "I
WOKE UP BEFORE I COULD GET THE FIRST TASTE."
