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What is Scrine?

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

What are the rules?

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• 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.

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• Membership is required to post your own sentences. Joining is quick and painless.

• With membership comes the unique privilege of calling yourself a Scriner.

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• The above sentence may be the only sentence on this site that is 100% true.

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Use this space for notes and reminders to yourself.

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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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Minimalist Jones once had a horrible squabble
With a turkey that’d never quite learned how to gobble,
The turkey just stood there, eyes straight ahead
Understanding not a single word that was said;

It’s Thanksgiving, you see, Minimalist Jones told the bird
Who then fluffed up his feathers, as if maybe he’d heard,
You don’t have to like it, we can just call it fate,
But you, my fine bird, will be served up on a plate;

Some say the turkey pecked Jones on the knees,
Then opened his beak and let out a big sneeze;
Others say he blinked as Jones grabbed his red neck,
Flapping his wings as he screamed, “What the heck!”

    TAGS:  birds, poetry, beak, feathers, fate, Minimalist Jones, dinner, turkeys, Thanksgiving, sneeze


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