Mulla Nasrudin 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 Mulla 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 Mulla stuck one eye out from under
the covers. "SON," he said, "I KEEP PRAYED UP AHEAD FOR SITUATIONS
JUST LIKE THIS ONE."
