THE DECEASED MUST BE HEADED THIS WAY
One day the Hodja sat by the window to watch a funeral procession. Behind the coffin walked the close relations of the deceased, wailing:
"Oh, why are you leaving us for a place where there is no light, no warmth, no food, no one to take care of you? You will be like an orphan, and so lonely!"
"Quick, shut the door, dear!" shouted the Hodja to his wife. "What they describe fits this house like a glove. The deceased must be headed this way!"
