The Mullah Nasrudin had been invited to a Thanksgiving feast. When he arrived, impecably attired, Nasrudin was seated amongst the servants. The host was an old enemy and wanted to humiliate Nasrudin publicly. Nasrudin spotted an empty chair next to the guest of honour and sat there instead.
The food arrived and Nasrudin was rather put off that guests were served plain white rice, while the host and his honoured guest had a large steaming platter of turkey pilaf laid before them. (For the sake of the delightful narrative, please ignore the fact that the Mullah was unlikely to celebrate pilgrams landing at Plymouth with a bird native to America. A feast with free food was something Nasrudin would always give thanks for. ) Not saying a word, Nasrudin reached for the delicious looking pilaf and piled his plate high with turkey and gravy from the host’s platter.
“Steady on, Mullah,” said the host in his ear, “that food may make you ill.”
Smiling, Nasrudin turned to him and replied, “I thought so, my dear man. I will sacrifice my stomach and save you from ill health.”
Times were tough in the credit crunch of 1275, and the Mullah Nasrudin had to take a job in a local pottery factory churning urns. Even Mullahs were feeling the pinch, but a 9 to 5 didn’t sit well with someone used to being his own boss. In the middle of his shift, Nasrudin suddenly got up from his wheel and walked towards the door. “What are you doing?” asked the manager. “I am going to get my hair cut,” replied Nasrudin. “You can’t do that on company time!” exclaimed the manager. “But my hair grew on company time,” responded, Nasrudin. “No, you didn’t grow all of it on company time!” “OK, then I won’t have it all off.”
Nasrudin was walking home with the Thanksgiving Turkey tucked under his right arm – a fresh plucked, bronze-feathered (free range, of course) bird he had just bought from his local butcher. In his left hand, he clutched Gordon Ramsey’s recipe for roasting the fowl.
Out of nowhere, down swooped a huge eagle, seized Nasrudin’s turkey in his talons and flew off.
“You fool!” cried Nasrudin after the eagle. “You may have taken my turkey, but I still hold the recipe!”