Someone asked me when I told them where I’m coming from, “What brings you all the way to the desert!”

Well, what am I supposed to say about leaving New York?

The last story I wrote for the last paper I wrote for, which was the first paper I wrote for, was about a chain smoker. I was sitting on a bench and he sat down beside me. Didn’t ask for a dollar. Didn’t ask for something to eat. He asked if I could spare a light. See, he lost his, and that’s when the chain started. He said he had to keep the chain burning. He said he needed a light to quit. He said if he didn’t get a light, he’d swim to the Statue of Liberty for hers.

What was I supposed to do? Wait for Lady Liberty’s light to shine?