Tom, Dick and Harry were traveling in the desert. Arriving at a small village they could find nowhere to sleep but a strange inn whose landlord, though willing to take them in for the night, would offer only a bed of fire, a bed of nails, and a bed of fleas.
In the morning, they compared notes over breakfast. The bed of fire was awful,” said Tom. “Very uncomfortable. I didn’t sleep a wink, and I’m scorched all over.”
“I had a bad night, too,” said Dick. “That bed of nails was dreadful. I’m covered with holes.”
“I slept fine,” declared Harry. “My bed of fleas was no trouble at all. I just killed one flea and all the rest went to the funeral!”