I got a piece of spam email today that caught my eye. I glanced at it while going through and telling Evolution to delete it, and the text looked suspiciously familiar. Allow me to quote:
“But there was no time for regrets. Stepa dialled the office of Rimsky, the Variety Theatre’s treasurer. Stepa was in a delicate position: for one thing, the foreigner might be offended at Stepa ringing up to check on him after he had been shown the contract and for another, the treasurer was an extremely difficult man to deal with. After all he couldn’t just say to him : ‘ Look here, did J sign a contract yesterday for thirty-five thousand roubles with a professor of black magic? ‘ It simply wouldn’t do! ‘Yes? ‘ came Rimsky’s harsh, unpleasant voice in the earphone. ‘Hello, Grigory Danilovich,’ said Stepa gently. ‘ Likhodeyev speaking. It’s about this … er … this fellow . . . this artiste, in my flat, called, er, Woland . . . I just wanted to ask you about this evening–is everything O.K.? ‘ ‘Oh, the black magician? ‘ replied Rimsky. ‘ The posters will be here any minute now.’ ‘Uhuh . . .’ said Stepa weakly. ‘ O.K., so long . . .’ ‘Will you be coming over soon? ‘ asked Rimsky. ‘In half an hour,’ answered Stepa and replacing the receiver he clasped his feverish head. God, how embarrassing! What an appalling thing to q ot ktmthu j tltp ukskt lunu rtouku mukur q furr urr sdjksdfsdfsdlgkj sdflkjsdf lksdjfsdfsdf”
…followed by an advertisement promising longer orgasms. In case you didn’t recognize it as quickly as I did, it’s from The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov. (The obligatory attempt to make money is here