The sun had once again risen...

And so had we. Myself, the Mexicans, and now the customer from yesterday - who had inexplicably joined our workforce - we milling around the storefront, bored. We'd already rearranged the pyramid of oranges, and drawn little faces on some of the bigger oranges, and done other things to oranges. Now, I wanted out of the desert. This had gone, like most of my life, beyond a joke.
 Outside, a desert snake prowled restlessly. I didn't worry about it, all the snakes 'round here seemed to do was steal the oranges. Everything revolves around oranges in the desert, it would seem.
 Crafting a gun from oranges, I set out into the desert. I'd seen a rock nearby, and thought it might be a nice place to shoot myself. Or drown myself in orange juice. Or get a nice view, whatever. Settling on the boiling rock surface in the blistering sun, I threw one cursory last glance at the sun. It looked like a giant orange, and I was so very angry.
 My internal monologue broke: Something, fast approaching from the sky. Helicopter! Coloured fecking orange, but you can't have everything. An eternity passed in a moment, and the mechanical, bladed seagull descended to the sand, near the orange stall.
 I approached, not getting my hopes up. Most likely, it wasn't a rescue, but another orange-hungry passer-by.
 We have bloody good oranges, you see.

Yes, I'm still in the desert. Why is no-one sending help?

Dawn broke, rising over the horizon like some sort of unbroken light thing. Stretching, awoken by the light, I scratched myself and rose from my orange-sack bedding. Nearby, the Mexicans began to stir, too warm under their ponchos in the morning heat.
 Walking from the storage room we now called home, into the store front, I prepared for another busy day. I pulled the lever on the wall, raising the metal grating covering the service window. Moving around lazily, I found some trousers and put them on. Toying with the idea of pretending two oranges were over-sized testicles, I noticed the customer.
 He was a rather shocking sight, considering we were in the middle of the desert, and I had only half a pair of trousers on. Hanging around a few feet from the shop front, he looked nervous, hesitantly taking steps towards the shop, then stopping and backing off. After a moment, I flicked another switch, activating the neon "open" sign on the front of the shop. Delight flickered across his face, and the customer approached the window.
 "Ah, good morning!" He hullowed me cheerily. "I've been lost in this damn desert for damn near 3 weeks! What news of the war? Has the Kaiser fallen yet?"
 I sighed to myself. The man was clearly no more than 30, although dishevelled and ripped of clothing. However, he looked rather well-fed and watered. Suspicion rose in my head: probably, he was a test customer, sent by my kidnapper/employer.
 "How can I help you sir?"
 "Ah, young man. I wonder, do you have any... pears?"
I closed the window. This was a test, a very stupid test. Turning the neon sign off, I went back to my sacking bed. As I closed my eyes, I could hear the Paco opening the window and trying to serve the man. Paco spoke excellent English, but to his credit, he had taken to his role brilliantly. Even now, I could hear him haggling with the man in broken English, offering his services as a day labourer.