Somewhere in the Deep Dark Woods, Robin sat in misery at the Poison Apple.

"Bested by a cat," he muttered to himself, "What kind of man am I?"

"One that needs to get over himself," Doris grumbled.

Robin scoffed. "How can I call myself a fearless archer anymore, hm? I could have been filthy rich! How can I be called an archer when I let a prize Pegasus just slip through my fingers!" He wanted to add a prize something else, but he kept quiet, shaking his head instead.

Mabel rolled her eyes. "Cheer up." "How?!"

Doris suddenly thought of something, and smirked.

"Hey- there's a new spot to be filled since Winchester left- if you 'can't call yourself an archer' anymore, you can take the new job here."

The stepsisters chuckled as they watched Robin run, the oak tavern door swinging on its hinges. "And that, is how you get rid of an unwanted customer," Doris said, and the two cracked up.

THE END (No, Seriously!)