After weeks of fighting off flying demons, fire breathing dragons, and a very itchy case of poison ivy, the handsome prince stood before the lovely Sleeping Beauty. He admired her comely figure, her long golden hair, and her delicate ears. He had a thing about ears.

Bending down, he stretched to plant a kiss on her enticing lips, the kiss that, by all accounts, would bring Sleeping Beauty back to life.

A small bell sounded from his back pocket.

Feeling that the prince was no longer hovering over her, Sleeping Beauty slowly opened one eye. She’d been awake for months, ever since that nasty little frog stuck his slimy tongue down her throat and she’d jolted awake to find the green creature planted on her bosom, staring at her, saying-

“I’m a prince! I’m a prince!”

The rudely awakened princess heard nothing, but instead hurled the frog towards Hannibal, the castle’s maleficent cat. Hannibal liked to bat little creatures around and toss them into the air before biting their heads off.

She could still hear the frog’s last words, “really, I’m a …”

Since then, Sleeping Beauty had practiced her sham sleep routine in preparation for a real prince showing up. Noiselessly, she gazed at her would be savior who was intently eyeing the screen of his cell phone. Suddenly, he grinned, turned to her , an exclaimed-

“Can you believe it? My team has just won the Fantasy Football playoffs and we’re in the Super Bowl!”

He stopped abruptly as he realized that the supposedly sleeping beauty wasn’t sleeping anymore.

“You moron!” she screamed, “you chose Fantasy Football over me?”

The prince’s jaw dropped. His phone buzzed again. He slowly turned his head and tried to sneak a peek at the screen.

Needless to say, the conversation deteriorated from here as the princess wondered if she’d been a bit rash with the little frog.

Moral: Texting vs. kissing? No contest.

tio stib