The Neon Cowboy (The Origin Story)

In the mid 19th century, there once was a boy, wild as the desert wind, forever drawn to the horizon. He danced too close to the edges of the world. His parents, weary from chasing him under the vast Arizona skies, fashioned him a vest from worn leather, and to it they stitched the gleaming shards of old tin and scrap metal—reflections of the sun and moon, so that he would never be lost to them.

One night, beneath a canopy of stars, they lay beside a crackling campfire. But the quiet of the desert was broken by the dark shapes of wolves. The beasts came swift as shadows, and the boy woke up to terror. His parents fought bravely, but the wolves were relentless. In the moon’s cold gaze, his parents fell, their last cries swallowed by the night. 

The boy, heart pounding like the earth itself, stumbled blindly into the fire. The flames kissed the metal on his vest, turning it into a blazing shield. He quickly exited the fire for his safety and although the vest was scorching, his leather underdress protected his skin from the heat. At that point, a wolf lunged viciously at the young bow, but its jaws met the searing metal plated vest, that his parents had so meticulously made for him since his birth 5 years prior. Scorched and startled, the wolf jerked back. In that panicked recoil, thwarted by fire and the burning metal vest, the wolf howled violently at the sky -- a cry for help and a warning to his pack to not dare take a bite at the young boy. It was this alarm bell that startled the pack and on instinct, they fled into the night. Leaving the boy behind in a simmering glow. From shock, the boy lay on the ground dazed and confused, and almost immediately fell asleep. 

As dawn broke, his vest caught the first light—glimmering, shimmering like a star fallen to earth. The boy lay, fragile and silent, draped over his parents’ lifeless forms. His vest, now dented and charred, caught the rising sun, flashing like a beacon. A band of Native Americans, drawn by this strange shimmering, found the child. They took him into their fold, raising him amidst the red rocks and sun-baked sands and gave his parents a proper barely. It was the vest that not only saved his life, but gave him a second chance at life. 

The Navajo tribe that took the boy into their embrace, ultimately gave him the name: Little Neon Cowboy; and in time, he would grow become the "Neon Cowboy." For in the desert, where light and shadow dance eternal, he became a reflection of both—a survivor whose story shimmered as brightly as the tin that once saved his life. He would go on to become the brightest light in the west, and always lived by the motto, "Shine so bright, they can't not see you." 

As time passed, and The Neon Cowboy grew up, he soon grew out of his metal vest that his parents once made him. He kept it as a souvinoir to remember his parents by, but as he got older he began wearing other clothes that also stood out, but weren't as cluncky and rigid -- despite the face the metal vest once saved his life. He vowed that his fashion would always stand out and shine bright. But not only that, his character, his charism and demeanor always stood out and shined from a distance. No matter what saloon he walked in or what vista he rode across, he always shined bright like a shooting star, thus, further solidifying his moniker as "The Neon Cowboy."