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Mulla Nasrudin thought he was going to die with a toothache. He asked his friend, “What can I do to relieve the pain?” “I will tell you what I do,” his friend said. “When I have a toothache, or a pain, I go over to my wife, and she puts her arms around me, and caresses me, and soothes me until finally I forget all about the pain.” Nasrudin brightened up and said: “GEE, THAT’S WONDERFUL! IS SHE HOME NOW?”

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Mulla Nasrudin came home and was told by his wife that the cook had quit. “Again?” moaned the Mulla. “What was the matter this time?” “You were!” said his wife. “She said you used insulting language to her over the phone this morning.” “GOOD GRIEF! ” said Nasrudin. “I AM SORRY, I THOUGHT I WAS TALKING TO YOU. ”

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A member of the finance committee called on Mulla Nasrudin. “I am calling about the yearly contribution to the fund for converting the heathen,” he said. “last year you gave a rupee.” “WHAT!” said Nasrudin in surprise “HAVEN’T YOU CONVERTED THEM YET?”

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Mulla Nasrudin lived far beyond his means and was constantly hounded by his creditors. But he was so used to them that their presence caused him no distress. In fact, he treated them with the utmost courtesy. Once he even served a bill collector champagne. “If you cannot afford to pay your debts,” the bill collector demanded, “how can you afford to serve champagne?” “DON’T GET SORE,” said Nasrudin, “I ASSURE YOU, SIR, THIS HASN’T BEEN PAID FOR EITHER”.

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Mulla Nasrudin had been working day and night throughout his district in a life or death struggle for reelection. He was relaxing one evening, following a speech, in the home of a friend. “I have heard your speeches,” his friend said, “but I think the real question is what will you do if you are reelected.” “NO,” said Nasrudin, “THE REAL QUESTION IS WHAT WILL I DO IF I AM NOT.”

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A young preacher was just getting acquainted with his duties. One of his first chores was to visit the hospital where Mulla Nasrudin, a member of his flock, was confined as a result of an automobile accident. The Mulla had been seriously injured: a broken leg, both arms broken, a broken collar bone, terrible cuts over his face and head, and several broken ribs. He was so thoroughly bandaged and taped and strapped up that only his two eyes and mouth were showing. The young preacher was at a loss for words, but realized that he must say something, so he asked the Mulla: “How do you feel today? I suppose all of those broken bones and cuts cause a great deal of pain. Do you suffer very much?” “NO, NOT MUCH,” said Nasrudin, “ONLY WHEN I LAUGH.”

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Mulla Nasrudin was drinking too much. So much that it began to worry his friends. Finally, they figured out a plan to cure him. The plan was for one of them to dress up like a devil, with horns and a pitchfork. They planned to scare the Mulla into giving up drink. Late one night,as Nasrudin headed home drunk, his friend jumped from behind a tree and shouted, “You will have to stop drinking!” “Who are you?” asked the Mulla. “I am the devil,” said his friend. “OH, YOU ARE THE DEVIL,” said Nasrudin. “I AM THE GUY WHO MARRIED YOUR SISTER.”

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