A gift of fruit
Sometimes, for the sake of fun, there is no alternative to calling a spade a spade. This reminds me of a story:
Timur set his camp near Konya. Each morning, the neighbouring villages sent people to him to sweeten his disposition with gifts. One day, Nasrudin was sent, with a small basket of green figs as a gift.
"What!" growled the Emir, "I hate figs! Stick them up his arse."
The guards promptly undressed Nasrudin and began to execute the order.
Unexpectedly, as they did so, Hoca erupted in mad laughter. The punishment proceeded but he continued to giggle.
"What is this?" the Emir asked, curious. "Are you one of those people who like this sort of thing?"
"Oh no, kind master, no," replied the Mullah, "but I think of my neighbour, who's next. He brought you watermelons!"
Timur set his camp near Konya. Each morning, the neighbouring villages sent people to him to sweeten his disposition with gifts. One day, Nasrudin was sent, with a small basket of green figs as a gift.
"What!" growled the Emir, "I hate figs! Stick them up his arse."
The guards promptly undressed Nasrudin and began to execute the order.
Unexpectedly, as they did so, Hoca erupted in mad laughter. The punishment proceeded but he continued to giggle.
"What is this?" the Emir asked, curious. "Are you one of those people who like this sort of thing?"
"Oh no, kind master, no," replied the Mullah, "but I think of my neighbour, who's next. He brought you watermelons!"
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