Once upon a time there was a lonely Prince who sat on his throne, twiddling his thumbs.
All his life his Father had told him that that some day his Princess would come. She would be strong and independent, driving up in her golden Lexus chariot pulled by many horses.
He had met many lovely princesses, but they either ignored him, put him a companion role, expected him support their bon bon and Kardashian addiction, or WORSE, expected to be treated as equals.
No one had stepped forward to claim his hand. So he gathered his court and began to game.
He no longer noticed the princesses that came to court him, so obsessed was he with outstanding the Fox.
“I don’t need a princess. All they want is my meager inheritance.”
He never noticed that the princesses stopped coming.
And then ,many years later, it happened.
“Son, we think perhaps it’s time you tried to find your own way in the world.”
“But Father! I’m only 43 winters old!”
The Queen groaned. “I have worts more useful than you. Leave!”
And so the Poor Prince was driven from his dungeon bedroom by his evil step mother.
Would he ever find someone? Would he ever best the archer’s best score of three deer in an hour?
Some stories are just too pathetic to continue.