Early one morning Mullah Nasruddin arose to find that the door to the little, ramshackle shed behind his house stood open, and his tired old donkey was gone. There were strange footprints in the yard, and the rope by which the donkey had been tethered was also missing, so the Mullah came to the obvious conclusion that the animal had been stolen.
Hoping for some commiseration from his friends, Nasruddin went to the nearby teahouse, and announced that an unprincipled thief who would doubtless spend eternity in flames had taken his donkey.
“I knew it would happen sooner or later!” declared one man. “How many times did I tell you, Mullah, lock your shed! But you never listen to advice! Trust in God, that’s a Mullah’s point of view.”
“”Maybe you didn’t tie him up properly, Mullah,” said another, “and the donkey left on his own. They don’t teach Mullahs how to tie knots, do they?”
And a third man said, “Your donkey is gone and you didn’t hear anything? How could someone pull open your shed and walk away with your donkey while you sleep through it all? Mullah, you could just as well let the animal wander through the village on his own!”
“Thank you, dear friends,” said Nasruddin. “Next you will tell me that the one who stole the donkey is not a thief!”