• 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."
As she stepped off the train, the Village People’s YMCA started belting out of her iPod and, almost simultaneously, she rounded the corner to see them; the Cowboy and the Indian.
Since ‘Indians’ was too culturally insensitive for a high school mascot, the school board voted unanimously to change their name to the Pawtucket Homosexual Nazi Midgets in an effort to intimidate, but not discriminate.
Legend says that the Wild Coyote is a really the wayward spirit of a Wannabe brave who is cursed to wander the desert until the coming of the great white Buffalo who will free the native nations from the casino and fireworks business
The old men hanging out at Stefano’s, drinking coffee and playing checkers all day, talk of the day, many years ago, when El-Keitho and the Wild Coyote faced off against a 1,000 angry Slapaho squaws who sought to scalp them for leaving the toilet seats up on the reservation.
“Think again,” the Wild Coyote told El Keitho as the squaws moved in closer, “the odds are actually 1000 to 1, because hombre, I’m out of here.”
The cowboy roared into town in his shiny white ten cylinder dodge, chrome accents sparkling like diamonds in the noon sun; the indian heard the low rumbling growl and darted into the bushes, stringing up an arrow and squatting on his tattooed haunches.
The Indian was willing to let go of most all of his possessions just to escape the evil eye and binding lasso of the mad cowboy, and then it came to the whiskey…
Copyright @ 2005 - 2017
143 queries in 0.7411 seconds