• Scrine is the home of lost, forgotten, and lonely sentences.
• Play nice. Be kind. Post only single sentences.
• Scrine gives everyone plenty of rope to play with, but reminds everyone that even the longest rope is capable of hanging a person.
• Censorship is ugly, but still not the ugliest bird in the sky. Happily, this has never been necessary.
• The appropriateness of all sentences will remain the sole discretion of Scrine's tender.
• Anyone. Reading along costs nothing but time.
• Membership is required to post your own sentences. Joining is quick and painless.
• With membership comes the unique privilege of calling yourself a Scriner.
• Your information will never be sold, given away, shared, or even traded for an unimaginably delicious slice of pie.
• The above sentence may be the only sentence on this site that is 100% true.
Use this space for notes and reminders to yourself.
This is a private space. Only you will see your notes.
Expiration date is not required, only if you want the note to magically disappear.
A great place to keep your fantastic ideas, like, "Hey! I need to write more sentences about crickets and English gentlemen with unruly beards."
2016 ~ 34
2015 ~ 259
2014 ~ 138
2013 ~ 256
2012 ~ 433
2011 ~ 940
2010 ~ 1786
2009 ~ 2631
2008 ~ 3808
2007 ~ 4502
2006 ~ 3037
2005 ~ 1188
“No, I did not just insult you,” growled Harry Snatch at the operator, “I’m just trying to get you to enter my address correctly: Rural Route 3, Fat Bottom, Georgia… oh, your name is Georgia? I’m sorry, I mean, I’m not sorry your name is Georgia, I’m sorry about your fat bottom, I mean, I’m sorry you misunderstood me, I don’t mean you have a fat bottom… do you? Oh, nevermind, try this: Rural Route 3, Fat Bottom, Gee-Ay, period… no. I didn’t say you were on your period… my name? ‘Harry Snatch,’ no, that’s not what I’m calling you, that’s my name, es-en-ay-tee-see-ech, Snatch…”
Minimalist Jones liked to keep things simple,
And that’s why he hated qwerty,
The typewriter, for instance, he did prefer,
Was a basic Blickensderfer.
“Goddamn it, for the last time, my wife’s name is Maya Shaveed-Snatch—two ee’s,” shouted Harry Snatch into the phone at the hapless customer service operator.
She kept it inside until it began to gnaw on her soul, tearing tiny holes in the goodness within.
Copyright @ 2005 - 2016
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