- [first lines]
- Narrator: Once upon a time there was a sensible, straight line, who was hopelessly in love... with a dot.
- Narrator: His worried friends noticed how terribly thin and drawn he was, and did their best to cheer him up. "She is not good enough for you." "She lacks depth." "They all look alike anyway. Why don't you find a nice, straight line and settle down?"
- Narrator: And yet he continued trying and failing and trying again - until, when he had all but given up, he discovered at last that with great concentration and self-control, he was able to change direction and bend wherever he chose. So he did, and made... an angle. And then again, and made another, and then another, and then another, and then another, and then another, and then another! "Hot stuff!", he shouted. Much impressed with his efforts, and in a wild burst of enthusiasm, sat up for half the night putting on an outrageous display of sides, bends and angles. "Freedom is not a license for chaos," he observed the next morning. "Oh, what a head!" There and then he decided not to squander his talents in cheap exhibitionism.
- [last lines]
- Narrator: With that, she turned to the line and shyly took his arm. "Do the one with all the funny curves again, honey," she cooed softly. And he did, and soon *they* did - and lived if not happily ever after, at least reasonably so.
- [last line, shown onscreen]
- Onscreen text: Moral: To the vector belong the spoils.
- Narrator: They were everywhere together. Singing and dancing and frolicking, and laughing and laughing, and Lord knows what else.
- Narrator: The dot wondered why she'd never noticed how hairy and coarse he was, how untidy and graceless, and how he mispronounced his L's and picked his ear. And suddenly she realized that what she thought was freedom and joy was nothing but anarchy and sloth. "You are as meaningless as a melon," she said coolly. "Undisciplined, unkempt and unaccountable, insignificant, indeterminate, and inadvertent. Out of shape, out of order, out of place, and out of luck!"
- Narrator: "I lack spontaneity. I must learn to let go. To be free! To express the inner passionate me."
- Narrator: She only had eyes for a wild and unkempt squiggle who never seemed to have anything on his mind at all.
- Narrator: "You're the beginning and the end. The hub, the core, and the quintessence," he told her tenderly. But the frivolous dot wasn't a bit interested.
- Narrator: Before long he'd learned to carefully control ellipses, circles, and complex curves, and to express himself in any shape he wished.
- Narrator: He saw things in her that no one else could possibly imagine. "She's more beautiful than any straight line I've ever seen," he sighed wistfully. But even allowing for his feelings, this was probably stretching a point.
- Narrator: "Why take chances?", the line argued without much conviction. "I'm dependable, steady, consistent; I know where I'm going! I've got dignity!"... But this was small consolation for the miserable line. Each day he grew more and more morose. He stopped eating or sleeping - and before long was completely... on edge.