Bathtub Cowboy

I've had a thought that maybe there is a cowboy sitting in a bathtub giving me advice that I already knew. He wears his hat and boots and chaps and holster and slurs his words like a real rugged wrangler. He drinks too much whisky, but never shoots off his revolver unless he really means to. 

He gives me this idea that I want something else - badly, and that makes me restless. Like maybe the world really is made up of cowardly sheriffs, ruthless bandits, and lonely bounty hunters resting above the surface doling out revenge. Someday, maybe, the bounty hunter killed God to see if it made anything better for him. To see if the cycle would stop, or... 

When it didn't, he felt like a murderer, but realized that he didn't need to because it was God who decided murder and that kind of thing. Clean and unclean. But that idea, the guilt, it was still there even without God, so the cowboy had to clean himself up, to purify, to, well, to sit in a bathtub and clear his karma by helping me out every once in a while.