It happened once upon a time that Mullah Nasruddin was sitting with some friends in the village square, engaged in a long and very interesting conversation. So deeply absorbed were they that they did not notice the hours passing, until they suddenly became aware that it was late, and they were hungry.

The Mullah, feeling generous, said, “Friends, I invite you! Come to my house for a meal.”

The friends thought this was a very good idea, and it was agreed that Nasruddin would go ahead to start preparations, while they came along behind.

When Nasruddin got home, he said to his wife, “Star of my life, guests are coming! Prepare food of every kind for them.”

His wife replied, “Husband, we cannot prepare food of ANY kind for them. Have you forgotten? We have nothing to eat in the house. Not even a grain of rice.”

“This is serious,” said Nasruddin. “How can I tell my friends we have no food? It would be a terrible loss of face. I will hide upstairs, and when they come, tell them I have gone out.”

The friends, meanwhile, were coming along slowly behind Nasruddin, and, arriving at his door, stood there for a while, talking. Finally, when Nasruddin did not open to receive them, they knocked. Nasruddin’s wife opened the door, and according to her husband’s instructions, told them Nasruddin had gone out.

“Gone out?” said the friends, in puzzlement. “But we saw him go in, and he has not come out again. He must be in the house.”

Nasruddin, hiding upstairs, was crouched below an open window, listening. “Have you no imagination?” he shouted. “I could have gone out the back way and climbed over the fence, couldn’t I?”