Don’t Pay The Catapultman

“NEXT!” shouted a voice.
Arthur spat out the coin and handed it to the robed specter on the shore.
“Where’s your boat?” he asked.
“Repairs,” growled the ferryless ferryman. “Leaky hull.”
“So how do I get cross?” asked Arthur.
“Hop on,” said the ferryman, pointing to a catapult.
Arthur smirked. “Is it safe?”
“You’re already dead,” said the ferryman, shrugging. “What do you care?”
Arthur climbed on the catapult, and the ferryman grinned.
“Ready?”
“N-”
The ferryman pulled the lever, and Arthur was flung screaming into the gloomy mist.
“Replace me with a toll bridge, will they?” he grumbled. “NEXT!”