‘I cannot get a job,’ said the Mulla, ‘because I am already in the
service of the All-Highest.’
   ‘In that case,’ said his wife, ‘ask for your wages, because every
employer must pay.’
   Quite right, thought Nasrudin.
   ‘I have not been paid simply because I have never asked,’ he 
said aloud.
   ‘Then you had better go and ask.’
   Nasrudin went into the garden, knelt and cried out: ‘O Allah,
send me a hundred pieces of gold, for all my past services are
worth at least that much in back pay.’
   His neighbor, a moneylender, thought he would play a joke
on Nasrudin. Taking a bag of a hundred gold pieces he threw it
down from a window.
   Nasrudin stood up with dignity and took the money to his 
wife. ‘I am one of the saints,’ he told her. ‘Here are my arrears.’
   She was very impressed.
   Presently, made suspicious by the succession of delivery men
carrying food, clothing and furniture into Nasrudin’s house, the
neighbor went to get his money back.
   ‘You heard me calling for it, and now you are pretending it is
yours,’ said Nasrudin. ‘You shall never have it.’
   The neighbor said that he would take Nasrudin to the court of
summary jurisdiction.
   ‘I cannot go like this,’ said Nasrudin. ‘I have no suitable clothes,
nor have I a horse. If we appear together the judge will be 
prejudiced in your favor by my mean appearance.’
   The neighbor took off his own cloak and gave it to Nasrudin,
then he mounted him on his own horse, and they went before the Cadi.
   The plaintiff was heard first.
   ‘What is your defense?’ the magistrate asked Nasrudin.
   ‘That my neighbor is insane.’
   ‘What evidence have you, Mulla?’
   ‘What better than from his own mouth. He thinks everything
belongs to him. If you ask him about my horse, or even my cloak,
he will claim them, let alone my gold.’
   ‘But they are mine!’ roared the neighbor.
   Case dismissed.