A short while ago, in the far, far away kingdom of Spain, a group of seven little men that also happened to be miners were reunited around a cheap plastic coffin (they wanted a glass one, but where the hell would seven dwarf miners get the money for that?) that stood proud in the middle of the central plaza of their tiny miners' village. Inside the coffin, a fair lady lied, dead.
It was winter, and it was snowing, and the dwarves sobbed, as they always did at that time of the day, for it was at that time that the fair lady known as Sno...er...Vivian, died, two days ago [Author's Note: No lack of originality here, no siree]. Vivian had skin as white as snow (maybe because she was, you know, dead), lips as red as blood (only God knows how), hair as black as ebony, and breasts as big as volleyballs, due to an old wish her mother once made, that she became the fairest lady in the world, before she was born.
But then, a red Ferrari that passed by the main street of the village stopped, and the driver, a rich playboy, seeing the magnificent view in the cheap plastic coffin, tried to come nearer it. One of the dwarves hurried to stop him, explaining that she was much loved by them all, and very important. But the playboy, moved by passion, said:
"While looking through the windows of my Ferrari, I fell in love with that fair lady, for she is the fairest I've ever seen. What must I do, to marry her?"
The dwarf tried to explain the playboy that he couldn't marry the girl, for she was dead, in a way the playboy would understand, which meant very slowly and loudly. But the playboy dismissed that:
"Ah, dun worry, I'm necrophiliac."
The dwarf opened his small mouth as if he wanted to say something, but remained silent.
"Look, I have this gemstone-rich lands in Central America dad stole from some campesinos through shady government deals, if you let me have her, the land is yours," he told them, in a last bid of persuasion.
"Are there, by any chance, green gemstones there, my good sir?" the dwarf asked, with sparkling eyes, and the playboy nodded, and the dwarves agreed, and the playboy finally had his prize.
"Butler, come here and bring the formaldehyde. We can't have her decomposing just now, can we?" the playboy called in his cell phone, and in three weeks, he married the corpse of Sn...Vivian in a joyful party of the Spanish high society, much praised by the media.
The Prime Minister of Spain got three million dollars for his party's election campaign, in exchange for passing a law that would make such union legal. The seven dwarves funded "Seven angry men inc.", a big mining company, that bought all other mining companies in Central America (and some newspapers, and most of the land, and railroads, and electricity plants, and some governments), becoming the richest dwarves to have ever lived.
Vivian's stepmother, that hadn't entered the story until now, won the "Fairest of all" modelling contest of Maiden magazine. And they all lived happily ever after...well, Vivian didn't actually "lived", but you get the idea.