But the seven dwarfs were totally dysfunctional.

But the seven dwarfs were totally dysfunctional. They hid that from snow white for as long as they could. Dopey was the scape goat. No one was allowed to

reveal the truth about the seven dwarfs' dysfunctionalism. If Grumpy got cantankerous, Dopey upset him. If Sneezey expelled a giant booger, Dopey made him sick. Poor Dopey was blam

ed for everything. Dopey's psychoanalyst was a post Jungian reconstructionist positivist. He told Dopey, "You to discover your real archtype." Dopey decided it was Rumpelstiltskin

and he decided wrong, but by then the damage was done. "Duh, uhh, duh," Dopey said to the wench at the spinning wheel. "Give me the gold straw or I give you your first-born child."

"No, but we agreed you'd take it off my hands if I weaved gold straw. I don't want it back."

"Did you hear what I just said? It's cursed! It will literally kill me! I don't give a damn about the gold straw anymore, I just want you to take this and let me live!"

"Whoa, calm down, Rumples. Why don't you take a break from spinning the straw and have a rest in this nice, comfy, padded chair?" Rumply sighed heavily but finally agreed

. Rumples bowed his head down across his arms for a few moments, then looked up at me, his ancient eyes bleary."I'm tired. Ready to retire from straw spinning. Got my 401K ready &

some first born children as collateral. Property's cheap on the Costa del Sol since Spain tanked & Mrs Rumples is partial to Sangria. Yeah, I'm packing it all in & moving on."

"No!", screamed Bump Biggles, hitherto unmentioned in the story, as he leveled his revolver. Suddenly a shot rang out. Bump's shot echoed the first. The end came quickly.