It was a hot, dry day, that day in the wild west. Though of course, in the desert, every day was hot and dry. The sun marched suspiciously over the brand-red sands daily, like a hardened cliché army officer eye balling new recruits. It watched and burnt the dunes mercilessly, in barrages of heat. And so here, it was always hot. And dry. Why, it was the desert. What do you expect?
Few settle on barren lands such as these, and those who do are often loners and outcasts. But in this particular stretch of American arid desert, there was one occupant, quite different to how you'd expect. Look, over there, through the whirling sand and the heat haze. There's a cabin jutting out from the seemingly endless horizon. And...that cabin is pink. With a cheerful rainbow flag flapping on the doorstep.
Some lizards live in holes. Some foxes live in caves. This individual lived in a pink cabin, smack-bang in the middle of nowhere, and his name was Sandy Dessert.
If you cared to show up, Sandy would welcome you with a dimpled smile and a sweeping welcome, fussing over removing you sweat-sodden get-up and complimenting your "interesting" (albeit windswept and sand-gritted) hair-style. He'd seat you in his surprisingly modern and homely front room, put on his adorable floral apron and cook you up something delicious all the while whilst maintaining charming small-talk.
The only visitors he'd ever received were a renegade terrorist (who he'd taken in shifty eyed and jabbering in a foreign tongue and had left with Sandy washing his face like a doting mother with a basket of cookies to keep him going) and a goat (which he'd named Sarah and cried when it died suddenly). So, he'd never really got the chance to accommodate a true guest, and he hoped for such a chance. So, he was to be surprised when he got such a chance- but in the strangest circumstances...