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You ought to be put in jail. Don't you dare set foot inside that gate or I'll blow your head off. Now, you get back in your car and get down the road before I lose my temper and do something I'll be sorry for."
Mulla Nasrudin did as he was told. A moment later he and his son were speeding down the road away from that farm.
"Well," said the boy to the Mulla, "I might as well tear that man's card up, hadn't I?"
"TEAR IT UP?" cried Nasrudin. "CERTAINLY NOT. JUST MARK HIM DOWN AS DOUBTFUL."
91.
Mulla Nasrudin who prided himself on being something of a good Samaritan was passing an apartment house in the small hours of the morning when he noticed a man leaning limply against the door way.
"What is the matter," asked the Mulla, "Drunk?"
"Yup."
"Do you live in this house?"
"Yup."
"Do you want me to help you upstairs?"
"Yup."
With much difficulty the Mulla half dragged, half carried the dropping figure up the stairway to the second floor.
"What floor do you live on?" asked the Mulla. "Is this it?"
"Yup."
Rather than face an irate wife who might, perhaps take him for a companion more at fault than her spouse, the Mulla opened the first door he came to and pushed the limp figure in.
The good Samaritan groped his way downstairs again.
As he was passing through the vestibule he was able to make out the dim outlines of another man, apparently in a worse condition than the first one.
"What's the matter?" asked the Mulla. "Are you drunk too?"
"Yep," was the feeble reply.
"Do you live in this house too?"
"Yep."
"Shall I help you upstairs?"
"Yep."
Mulla Nasrudin pushed, pulled, and carried him to the second floor, where this second man also said he lived. The Mulla opened the same door and pushed him in.
But as he reached the front door, the Mulla discerned the shadow of a third man, evidently worse off than either of the other two. Mulla Nasrudin was about to approach him when the object of his solicitude lurched out into the street and threw himself into the arms of a passing policeman.
"Off'shur!
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