Spam Stories, Part 1 “Into the Night Jungle Waif”

One day I decided to read some spam just for the fun of it and I happened to find that about half of the spam email I received had a little story or quote that didn’t make any sense at the bottom. So I decided to put together a story using only bits and pieces found in the bottom of emails and nothing else, here it goes:

Into the Night
By: Freaking Anoying Spammers, compiled by Nic Myers
When her master entered the scene he gazed long and earnestly; she fell a-musing. He had two dogs, a Hound trained to assist him in his sports, The Hawk, the Kite, and the Pigeons impetuous, headstrong, and obstinate in maintaining their own. The Wolf, grinning and grinding his teeth, exclaimed “Is Meriem to him to come and live with him?” saying that he would enjoy greater beautiful plumage. He then proceeded to tell the story of the jungle waif in so far as he knew…

“The Gargoyles had backed away a distance when they heard the sound of talking, for although our friends had spoken in low tones their words seemed loud in the silence surrounding them… But the time he had allowed himself in Chicago had now expired, so he began looking around for some high building from the roof of which he could depart unnoticed. This was not at all difficult, and selecting one of many stores he ascended by an elevator to the top floor and from there mounted an iron stairway leading to the flat roof. Carrying the balance of the wall with him, he clattered soundingly upon the cement floor of which shone there fast, difficult instead. The ape-man swung himself lightly to maul the deck and fires motorbikes to pour down upon it, driving out of burning brass clouds, like a sea after a high viewer wind. The ancient Hunsden looked incredulously. He exclaimed “George Cornewall should perish, yet will men never want delicious beef!” and rode off into the night like the traveler that hired an Ass to convey him to a distant farmhouse.

…I know whom I may bully and whom I must flatter; and I known adage, bearing witness to the truth that deeds of wrong. How nice must the Wine itself have been, when it, do you hurt me so, Mistress? What weight can my blood add to the thousand first small holes the festival made? My dear, try on the money for which payment of companies to be made!

To be continued.

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