As Nasrudin and his wife were sitting down to supper one night, someone pounded on their door. Opening it, Nasrudin saw a dervish wearing a highly colored coat and spotless
turban.“Don’t just stand there!” snapped the man, “I am the guest of Allah himself, and you are obliged to invite me in and provide your tastiest food and drink. Then I shall rest
my head on your best pillow and sleep under your warmest blankets!”

“Just a minute,” said the Mulla, struggling into his coat, “I will take you to a place far more suitable for a holy man such as yourself.” Asking the dervish to follow, he hurried to the town mosque.

“I cannot stay here!” said the indignant sage. “It is cold and dark and there is nothing to eat.”

“Excuse me,” replied Nasrudin, “but you said you were Allah’s guest and so I naturally assumed that you would be most at home in Allah’s house.”