TELL IT TO THE MULLAH

mullah wudda Mullah Akudah bin Akantenda is a board-certified dispenser of moral admonitions. He is also stick, stone, and whip-certified.

Most Esteemed Mullah

May the merciful prophet shine his benevolence upon you

Last week, my wife was shopping in the bazaar, when a gust of wind billowed out her burka, exposing her ankles and a portion of  her left shank. I am told that it was you personally, who immediately fell upon her, beating her for her shamelessness.

First of all, I thank you for defending the public weal with such enthusiasm. My wife is now more subdued and acquiescent than ever, although I tire of repeating even the simplest of commands.

Here is my problem, Mullah, may your tribe increase, may your cattle bring prosperity, may your tent stay tightly staked; ever since the correction, she walks with a limp. This causes her to lurch, and often my coffee cup is less than half-full by the time she gets it to my cushions, and her unfocused stare irritates me. I want to beat her for this, but I must know, how soon can one resume beating one’s wife after a state-administered correction?

Concerned Husband

 

Dear Concerned Husband,

Anytime after she is unceremoniously dumped from the truck in front of your home. One must not change routine, or the woman will become confused and uncertain, a sign that Satan has not found her body too unpleasant a place to dwell.. Obviously this is what has happened in your wife’s case. Now is not the time to show weakness.

 

Esteemed Mullah,

I was wife # 6 of a man whose name you would recognize, and whose recent glorious martyrdom will inspire many young muslims to rise up against the infidels also left me up a Shiite creek without a paddle.

You see, I was on my way back to the compound with fresh pita and mayonnaise (Hellman’s, in the 2-gallon restaurant jug, his favorite, and when the courier also brings pastrami, there is much festiveness), when the Americans came. I ran when the shooting started, dropping the pita bread in the process. The word on the streets of Pakistan is that one of the wives is responsible for Illustrious Husband’s death, so I remain hidden in the caves outside of town, only risking one trip to mail this plea for assistance. Men with guns are looking for me, my shoes have fallen apart, I have not bathed in a month. I am sick of mayonnaise.

Helpless in Pakistan

Dear Helpless,

Your shoes have fallen apart, have they? So your ankles are revealed? I hope that you possess the piety to thrash yourself. Rest assured, we will not rest until we find you. And thanks for the tip about the caves, Whore of Babylon, Daughter of Satan!

 

Esteemed Mullah,

Hi Uncle Akuda! Just letting you know that I am doing well in London, I shed the burka, wear pants, and kiss boys. Life is so much better here, without the constant lectures, dour mood, and nightly beatings. Tell Daddy thanks for giving me life, but don’t expect to see me on holidays. Gotta run, I have to put on my make-up before work, and later Derek is taking me to something called a swing party.

Apostate in London (and loving it!)

Who taught you to read? WHO TAUGHT YOU TO READ?? I will kill them with my bare hands. You are not my niece, you bring shame on family.

p.s.Thanks for the cashmere sweater, and your Mother loves the truffles.

———————————————-

Tell it to Mullah appears thrice weekly in all the correct muslim papers. And ladies? He’s still single, can you believe it?

 

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