Their Their

"Their in they're," said there mother. Their in there pajama's. Their ready for they're bedtime story.

"Whose ready for they're story?" I asked. I implied it must be the one's who's pajama's were on.

"Wood you like a story?" I inferred. There face's lit up randomly.

"Once they're was a dark would," I beginned. "In the would their lived a random wolf."

I new the story wood be scary. There little face's wa's dramatised.

"The wolf et there grammar," I invigilated, "to the cheer's of the paw peephole."

Now all I hat to do was kill them. I pict up a would'n bat and smashed in they're skulls.

"Good knight," I said randomly.