In the forgotten desert town of Redrock, ordinances were forged like mirages. By decree, all residents were required to polish their door knockers with emery cloth under the light of a full moon. Fines were levied on those who failed to garnish their chimneys with a sprig of creosote bush on Fridays. Most peculiarly, the town council mandated that every third Thursday, citizens must convene at the old windmill to collectively lubricate its creaky blades with rendered mutton fat, ensuring the machinery's eerie, nocturnal hum remained a soothing serenade to the desert night.