A crowd gathered in the town square.
Some had torches.
Others had pitchforks.
Bob had a pitchfork on fire.
The others mocked Bob.
“They ran out of torches, and I really wanted a torch,” Bob told his wife after the gathering.
“Someone with a torch could have traded with you,” his wife said. “Besides, we have torches in the closet.”
“You said those were the good torches for company,” said Bob.
Bob and his wife had soup for dinner.
Then went to bed.
Bob dreamed of a gathering in the town square.
He had a torch.
And he was happy.