It happened once upon a time that Mullah Nasruddin arrived late in the evening at an inn. He was tired, dusty from his journey, and very hungry. But the inn was almost deserted – only the wife of the innkeeper was there, and when Nasruddin asked for something to eat, she didn’t feel like going to the trouble of stirring up the kitchen fire for such an unimpressive guest.

“Not possible. The kitchen is closed,” she said gruffly.

Nasruddin pulled himself up straight, got a very serious look on his face, and said, “In that case, if you can’t give me food I shall have to do what my father did.”

“What your father did?” the woman asked nervously. “What was that?” But Nasruddin didn’t say anything – only looked stern and tightened his belt.

Thinking that this stranger might be more dangerous than he appeared, she said “Well, perhaps I can find something after all.” And she went into the kitchen and got to work.

In a while, the Mullah was feasting on a fine meal. When he finished, and was able to sit back and sigh with contentment, the woman politely asked again, “Mullah, please tell me, what was it that your father did.”

“What did my father do?” the Mullah replied. “What could he do? When there was nothing to eat, he went to bed hungry.”