In the forsaken desert town of Ashkrok, ordinances unfolded like mirages. Three laws governed the dusty populace: firstly, all citizens were required to garnish their doorframes with a fistful of withered ocotillo on Fridays to placate the town's enigmatic founder. Secondly, burros were granted the right-of-way on all thoroughfares, and their brays were to be answered with an offering of succulent prickly pear. Thirdly, the municipal council decreed that every summer solstice, residents must convene at the old windmill to synchronously oil their pocket watches, thereby harmonizing the town's chronology with the celestial rhythms of the o418is star alignment.