The eighth dwarf Machete was not pleased. He had gone out in good faith with rest of the dwarfs making it clear he was not going to drink and here he was traffic cone in hand, stuffed into a ballerina outfit and high heels laid out on a bed in what suspiciously looked like one of the Queens bedrooms at the palace.

A horrible thought stuck Machete. He was not wearing any pants.

“Queen Gargoyle! Bloody hell!”

Machete knew what to do. He picked up a pen and wrote “I wont leave Snow White. Sorry. Machete” then ran his life.