Spam gets literary and curiously on target
This spam just arrived at my inbox:
At this moment he noticed what seemed to be a damp, evil-smelling substance oozing under the door and into his office. A tremor ran down the treasurer’s spine. Suddenly a clock began to strike midnight and even this made him shudder. But his heart sank completely when he heard the sound of a latch-key being softly turned in the lock. Clutching his briefcase with damp, cold hands Rimsky felt that if that scraping noise in the keyhole were to last much longer his nerves would snap and he would scream. At last the door gave way and Varenukha slipped noiselessly into the office. Rimsky collapsed into an armchair. Gasping for air, he smiled what was meant to be an ingratiating smile and whispered : ‘God, what a fright you gave me. . . .’ Terrifying as this sudden appearance was, it had its hopeful side–it cleared up at least one little mystery in this whole baffling affair. ‘Tell me, tell me, quickly! . . .’ croaked Rimsky, clutching at his one straw of certainty in a world gone mad. ‘ What does this all mean? ” ‘I’m sorry,’ mumbled Varenukha, closing the door. ‘ I thought you would have left by now.’ Without taking his cap off he crossed to an armchair and sat down beside the desk, facing Rimsky. There was a p l uhuit gtlur ukursnu jtuukununuh uin trtsf r j sdjksdfsdfsdlgkj sdflkjsdf lksdjfsdfsdf
The last sentence notwithstanding, this is text from The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov, a book that happens to be on my Amazon Wishlist.
Could this be my subconscious spamming me with reading suggestions?
I’m feeling a bit queasy now.
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