In a distant town, Terrain Town, lived a straight guy. He had straight hair, straight teeth and a straight sharp nose. His name was Pole Straighter.
As Henry straight got torn up into straight strips, Pole felt a sharp pain in his chest. He felt his straight as a ring partner calling out to him in the straight horizon. His worst fear shot straight towards him and hit him in the face.
He sprinted as fast as a cheetah in a straight line towards his partner. In the midst I running, he charged straight into a spiky tree.
...
The straight spikes were painted red by Pole's blood. He fell straight to the floor unconscious and dead.
Never again would these two men be straight...not even in hell.
A/N:
I hope the death of these two straight men made you happy.
MORAL OF THE STORY:
Don't be straight, be bent.
