The Neon Cowboy and the Space Lizard were only figments of one another’s imagination. If either one stopped thinking of the other, the dark panther of nothing would slink into the room by a back way and devour them both. It was an uncomfortable life, and destined to be brief, since neither of them slept. Or could sleep. Or was aware of the concept of sleep. This was how they had imagined each other in the first place – in a mutual delirium of sleepless hallucination, like a schizoid big bang, suddenly there was something where there had been nothing but the feeling of desperate, yawning existential panic.
They moved together, a reptilian head built for world domination and an awkward whistling half-glass sodbuster pretending to be friends and obsessively reminding themselves of the other’s continued existence, and making it true. The Space Lizard had sharp teeth and a sweet tooth, and carried over its shoulder a burlap sack full of Stevia, the zero-calorie natural sweetener, which it had created one shadeless moment out of the bones of a long-dead dog found on a long blackstone walkway that went halfway across a yawning blue pit before ending abruptly. The Neon Cowboy’s expression never changed, he always smiled and always waved, inviting anyone who saw him to patronize some place that had never existed.
They wandered aimlessly. Despite the Space Lizard’s love of sweet false tastes, neither of them needed to eat. As far as they could tell. The Neon Cowboy didn’t even have a mouth, just a drawing of a mouth, painted across the same uneven tin surface that covered him front and back. As they walked he did not bend his knees – he could only flex somewhat around the middle, and swayed first one leg slightly forward and then the other. This was slow going, but that was fine, as the Space Lizard himself had little energy. The sun here was not what he felt used to.
The landscape was bright, the light completely even and shadowless, but not harsh enough to hurt the eyes. It was simply flat, sourceless, everywhere, this light. You could see forever, everything receding with mathematical exactness back towards a distant point of convergence.
They wandered from one spot to another as points of interest appeared on the horizon.
There was a tree, a bright yellow tree against the blue sky going colorless down to the horizon. At the tips of its branches were tiny pink dots, clustered like berries, round discs. The Neon Cowboy backed into the tree, careful not to shatter the beautiful delicate tubes that rimmed the front of his body. He backed into the tree sharply, and the shock shook loose some of the tiny pink disks. The Space Lizard picked one up. It was divided into four quadrants and said “Adderall” around the edge.
They went on. For some time there was nothing, and the sky began to turn orange. Then there was a tiny snake with blue and red and black and white diamonds arranged in patterns down its lemon-yellow back.
“Give me jewels,” it said.
But the Space Cowboy and the Neon Lizard did not have any jewels. And so the snake did not sing for them, and yet again they moved on.
But for a fraction of a moment the Neon Cowboy thought of what a world might look like that was like that snake. Where crystals hung in great strings from the ceilings of blue-glowing caves, and outside the green soft grass cushioned unsullied streams where crabs lay softly. He considered what it would be like to dwell in such a soft place, rather than in this unending desert of meaning, with its symmetrically shattered granite horizons, its lonely trees, its lost wanderers.
The frustrated yellow snake turned and spoke to them as they walked past. It spoke with a flat, accentless, male voice.
“The Neon Cowboy and the Space Lizard were the dark panthers of one another’s imagination. If either one stopped thinking of the other’s nothingness, an uncomfortable life would slink in by a back way and devour them both. Neither of them was aware of the concept of sleep, or of humanity, and they lived in a mutual delirium of schizoid big bangs, where there had been nothing.
“A reptilian head moved and an awkward whistling together through sharp teeth and a sweet tooth, a burlap sack full of Stevia and children’s bones found on a long black walkway. The Neon Cowboy’s blank dumb smile wandered aimlessly.”
They stopped to listen. The Neon Cowboy was transfixed. The snake continued speaking.
“Neither of them needed the sweet false tastes, just a drawing of a mouth, a head meant for world domination. Thinking of each other’s dark panther painted across the same uneven tin surface. He did not bend his knees, only flexed somewhat around the middle, waiting for its lonely trees, its lost wanderers. The Space Lizard himself had little energy, completely even and shadowless, waiting and accepting. There was a tree, a yellow tree against a blue horizon.
“The light completely where crabs lay softly. You could see forever, everything receding with mathematical exactness back to shatter the beautiful delicate tubes. They wandered from one spot to another at the tips of its branches.
“Tiny pink dots, clustered like berries, round discs, rimmed the front of his body. He backed into the tree sharply, and was divided into four quadrants and said “Adderall” around the edge.
“For some time there was nothing, and the sky began to turn orange. Then there was a tiny snake with blue and red and black and white diamonds arranged in patterns down its lemon-yellow back.”
Then the snake ceased speaking. And for a fraction of a moment the Neon Cowboy was distracted, he thought of what the world might be like that this snake came from, this amazing performance, and in the next moment, both he and the Space Lizard disappeared forever, and that whole incredible world with them.
