Rhinestone Cowboy

	There are many legends of the Yellow Soul. An old-style cowboy equipped with a deadly six shooter, stern and rigid. He wouldn’t be afraid to put you down in the dirt.  Many monsters feared him and his deadly aim, so he never got in many fights, and in the ones he did, they never lasted long. These tales were told along through the many monsters that inhabited the underground. But very little had solid truth to them.
	Contrary to popular belief, his six shots never rang out. He’s never shot the damn gun and he never put down a monster. In many cases, he intimidated his way through most fights.  Monsters fear what they know can kill them, and the “Cowboy” had a mean look and a mean iron.  None chose to face him in fear of an untimely end.
Another false truth was that he was stern and had a malicious glint about his eyes. He was scared stiff at every turn of his adventure, he was just good at hiding his feelings. Every monster that stood in his way terrified him, making him think that they all were horrible creatures.  But when he finally got to the Waterfall, and learned the truth about how they ended up here, he felt pure guilt. He gained empathy for the trapped monsters and wished to help them.
“I wish for monsters to finally see the stars…”
								~~~~
	After many travels and avoiding many fights, he finally made it to Asgore’s castle.  Going through the final corridor to the throne room felt the longest trip he’s had. His footfalls were slow going and heavy, his wary eyes looking straight ahead. He knew what he had to do.
	“Howdy,” said the boy, as he entered the garden like Throne room. Asgore was sitting at a small table, with his watering can lying nearby.
	Asgore looked up from his tea and his calm smile turned to a frown.
	“I’ve heard you’re the head honcho of this underground place,” he unholstered his revolver and aimed at Asgore.  “I know what I have to do to escape, and you’re the only one in the way.”
	Asgore rose from his seat, grabbing his Trident from his back.
	“I’m afraid so,” said the king, “Sorry about this, human. I wish we could’ve talked. It was nice to meet you.”  He rushed the Cowboy.
	“I’m sorry about that too,” he whispered and pulled the trigger.
	The gun clicked.
	The boy opened his clenched eyes, expected to see his god in front of him. But instead found the Trident, inches from his face. He saw that it was trembling.
 Asgore stood rigid, shaking as he wept silently.  He threw down his weapon and looked up at the Cowboy.  He couldn’t forgive himself for killing a defenseless child.
	“I see,” sighed the boy. “I was hoping that this wouldn’t happen for you. I tried to give you the easy way out, help you ease your conscious.  For you to be able to say it was self-defense. Sorry about this.”
	He took off his necklace; on it was a single bullet.  He loaded it into the cylinder and smiled at Asgore
	“It was nice to meet you, too.”