Like a good old-fashioned love in, only with words






What is Scrine?

• Scrine is the home of lost, forgotten, and lonely sentences.


What are the rules?

• 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.



Who can play?

• 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.


What about privacy?

• 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.

June 17, 2015

While not all of the original comments or Scrineblog entries have made it home to roost quite yet, it appears the days of newscrine.com have come to a close.

Scrine.com is back in business.  Still lacking a decent mobile access, but we're getting close.



... read older news items



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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."



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2014 Supporters

  • boot

July 08, 2015

After his humiliating defeat, the dipshit fired up a joint, for a late night treat.


When his external hard drive wouldn't fit in the gym bag with the rest of his belongings.


July 07, 2015
the thought had crossed Kevin’s mind :: You can call me, 'Sir' :: 0

Quipped the dipshit, "Kevin, are you dreaming about suplexing me again,actually playing the role of attacker?"


Floating out of the squared circle :: You can call me, 'Sir' :: 0

Perchace a dwarf named Kevin might dream of applying sweet 80's wrestling moves to teach a sibling the kind of lesson that would leave a mark, but such thoughts are too much and often Kevin needs to relax in order to reduce the adrenaline rush, sometimes via the sweet release of a tranq.


Jimmy ‘Superfly’ Snuka would be proud :: You can call me, 'Sir' :: 0

"Oh, snap", Kevin whispered to himself, his anger at his brother growing along with the widescreen daydream of him suplexing Jerry onto the cold, hard blacktop.


Opportunity :: You can call me, 'Sir' :: 0

Never one to miss an opportunity, Jerry answered his mother's lamentations regarding his surviving birth with a hard-hitting question about the availabilityof jello.


A mother weeps in the night :: You can call me, 'Sir' :: 0

"My Lord, Jerry", said the mother, gesturing wildly in the way of Italians, "the tears that stain this stereotypical smock source themselves for my refusal, lo those many years ago, of an abortion."


Retort :: You can call me, 'Sir' :: 0

Lest he be outdone by a bipolar dwarf, Jerry looked down and replied, "Yeah, well I know you are, but what am...wait...I'm not...you're...um."


Goddammit, Jerry :: You can call me, 'Sir' :: 0

Kevin dropped his fork, gave his brother 'that look', and blurted, "Jesus, Jerry, you're dumber than a bag 'o coal."


And so it begins :: You can call me, 'Sir' :: 0

Jerry looked at his mother and said, 'I can't eat now because I'm  overdue for sweet bathroom time and a quick jerk.'


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