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A week later, the Mullah again asked to borrow the pot. The neighbor happily
A few days later, Nasurdin appeared on the neighbor's doorstep weeping.
"Alas my friend, you pot has died! Take comfort that she has surely gone to
Paradise and helps to feed the Prophet and the Faithful!"
"What is this!" Demanded the neighbor. "A pot cannot die!"
"All that is born, dies. So it is written in the Sacred texts. Last week
you agreed that pots are born. Do you wonder then that they should die?"
(Sorry for splitting this up. Curse AOL!)