A village was terrorized by a demon. The demon attacked people, ate their livestock, trampled their fields, screamed when they tried to sleep, blew out their lights, pinched their babies, threw their dinners on the floor, broke bowls, intentionally sang off key, and was a real nuisance. The villagers tried everything they could, but to no avail.

Finally, a delegation of elders went to a Buddhist temple in the mountains and told the abbot their plight, begging for help.

The abbot said, “No problem! You go on home and rest easy, because tomorrow morning one of my disciples will go take care of the problem for you.”

The next morning, the villagers were eagerly waiting for a procession of solemn monks with drums and bells. Instead what they saw was a sami, a novice monk, about twelve years old, skipping along the path humming a song.

They asked the sami, “Why are you here?”

He said, “My teacher told me to come take care of your problem for you.”

“Are you sure? This is a terrifying demon, mighty beyond words, we are helpless against him!”

“No problem,” said the sami, “Now tell me where he is.”

“He’s in the ancestors’ temple, eating their plaques. He ate the altar yesterday.”

“No problem,” said the sami, and with a sure step, marched to the temple, pushed open the door, and went in.

Within moments, the villagers heard blood curling shrieks. The temple rattled and shook. Within moments, the demon shot through the roof, screaming and howling, and disappeared in the distance.

The unruffled sami came out of the temple with a thin smile on his lips.

The villagers fell to their knees in thanks, apologizing that they had not been respectful enough when he first came. They asked, “You must be very powerful! How did you do that?”

The sami answered, “Simple! I reached into my bag and pulled out my donation book.”