"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 siojn joi n q pnop nioontng nunmst ohosot sdjksdfsdfsdlgkj sdflkjsdf lksdjfsdfsdf "
And then a graphic with a Viagra ad.
There was a what?? You can’t leave me hanging like that! Did Varenukha ever tell Rimsky what the mystery was all about? You dirty bastards! Spam is one thing, but spam that leaves people hanging like that? There’s a special place in hell for the likes of you!!
Ok, if I buy some Viagra, will you finish the story?
It appears to be the latest wave in spam. I get forwarded material from the Admin@ mail address of another site where I’m on staff, and every day I get a few samples of this material. It’s like a three-way collaboration between Nabokov, Borges, and the penile enlargement/erectile drug direct-marketing team.
I can’t wait until tomorrow, to find out what Violet and the dark Latino man in her garden will converse about before lapsing into a Cialis ad.
It’s from something called The Master & Margarita, by a fella named Mikhail Bulgakov. It continues:
You can read it in its entirety here.
I believe that the text was selected precisely because it’s bloated and purple, as though the words themselves were engorged with blood; their turgid tumescence suggestive of the ph.arma.cological action of /ia.gra.
"first at the shuttered window. There was a loud crash, but the glass did not even crack, and a moment later Ivan Nikolayich was struggling in the arms of the orderlies. He screamed, tried to bite, then shouted : 'Fine sort of glass you put in your windows! Let me go! Let me go! ’ A hypodermic syringe glittered in the doctor’s hand, with one sweep the woman pushed back the tattered sleeve of Ivan’s blouse and clamped his arm in a most un-feminine grip. There was a smell of ether, Ivan weakened slightly in the grasp of the four men and the doctor skilfully seized the moment to jab the needle into Ivan’s arm. Ivan kept up the struggle for a few more seconds, then collapsed on to the divan. 'Bandits! ’ cried Ivan and leaped up, only to be pushed back. As soon as they let him go he jumped up again, but sat down of his own accord. He said nothing, staring wildly about him, then gave a sudden unexpected yawn and smiled malevolently : ‘So you’re going to lock me up after all,’ he said, yawned again, lay down with his head on the cushion, his fist under his cheek like a child and tmtgqtqrth pj qp qoqqonp pqip oq tq gq uqmr t n hns nt sdjksdfsdfsdlgkj sdflkjsdf lksdjfsdfsdf "
I did some Googling to see where this text came from, and whaddayaknow – The Master & Margarita. Looks like I may not have to go to the library after all. Give it a few weeks and these guys’ll send me the whole novel!
Keep 'em! Maybe someone is sending you the unedited version, you know, where the author got writer’s block and mashed his fists onto the typewriter keys in frustration. Could be worth thousands!
This is either wonderful or horrible. Electronic spam is trying to appeal to the literate computer user. That line used to be what separated us from the animals (sorry, Hal).
