• 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."
grudknows, grinning mischieviously (and snickering behind her tackily ring adorned hand) offers Boot a virtual yellow rose - not a real one, just the idea of one, in friendship - because grudknows, of course, values boots friendship.
grudknows… looking around frantically in a panicked state, yelled, “Where’s Boot? Who’s seen Boot?” but there was no answer as boot had disappeared off to ‘merica to investigate why they use ‘ize’ to end words instead of ‘ise’.
So I open up my Triple J newsletter and see ‘Festival of the Boot’ and think… “Wow! Boot has her own festival now… cool!”, but it turns out that it’s just some Rugby thing.
’Mouse has convinced Bakerina to be my proxy re: buying Boot a beer should Boot be in NYC.
All is forgotten!
Y’know, ‘mouse is a trusting sort, but even at that I’m not sure if I should believe everything everyone tells me out here on the ‘net—for example, just when I’m beginning to get used to the idea that Boot’s a female-person, I read the interview that claims she’s 78, with pink hair, and a ladder fetish.
The entity known as boot is certainly 78, has pink hair and is keen on ladders, however, the real woman that wears the boot is definitely not 78, has had hair coloured purple, red, orange, brown and so on (but never pink) and is only interested in ladders as a functional device… but who are you going to believe; a boot or a woman?
Boot has gleefully pointed out that I have now appeared in the list of ten scriners, which is a little disturbing… and lead me to wondering *where is* Bunni - the person whose posting made me discover the scrine site in the first place - I wanted to cite the quote I’d received via messenger, before sharing it willy-nilly with others - come back bunni!
Boot took off her ... well, her boot actually… and dipped her big toe delicately in the cool, refreshing water and thought “hmm, quite nice really”.
Since mouse stole my ‘boot on foot’ idea, I thought I’d try this one on for size.
You know where this one’s leading…
Something flew across the air towards the innocent little girl (it appeared to be a boot).
Who knows what boot and grud are up to - and more to the point - why does grud have a fork instead of a spoon to stir her coffee…?
Boot looked at the mainstream values sales man in disbelief, ‘So all I need to do to get the free gift is to watch an episode of Big Brother or read a romance novel… couldn’t you make it something simple like bamboo sticks under the fingernails?’.
The sounds made by grud’s sister when she discovered a parcel addressed to Boot in the post which she is now holding for a King’s ransom - damn postal services that make you list the contents of the box on the outside!
This photo made me laugh, for quite a while, quite loudly and for not any sort of a good reason.
Apparently the bones in my fingers know more about what I want than I do, since I don’t recall logging into Scrine earlier today - but yet am - it must have been done without the involvement of my brain.
I thought I’d write this Scrine naked right up to my knees.
Now that I’ve decided to have Corn Nuts for breakfast, there’s no telling where this day will go.
Say nothing, walk nowhere, and just keep it hidden deep in the darkened closet.
Sleeping is always a good plan.
As the less regular Scriners rolled up to Scrine, they were perplexed to find a bevy of ladybugs, a giant number 8, bursting rainbows and a bloodied machete or two.
As the planet rotated gloriously in its blanket of stars and dust, the woman walked the underside of the globe quieter than even she could have expected.
I swear I didn’t cheat at this, but it appears I really am a pair of boots.
TAGS: boot - the person
You never know where bunnies might be hiding, even in your boots, so always check for fluffy sights, else watch out for cahoots.
Woohoooooo! and a beer.
There’s something colourful on the horizon.
In the last two months I’ve had to give last rights to two of my favourite pairs of boots and it feels a little like a part of my soul has been thrown away each time.
Copyright @ 2005 - 2017
187 queries in 2.0000 seconds