Great Literary Spam

The only thing that has kept me going over the last couple days has been the wonderful spam in my inbox. Each paragraph is a seperate email, but yet when they are put together they make such a lovely story. Someone give this spammer a set of Ethan Allen Hemingway furniture!  Enjoy...

All dried up and kind of yellow. The trick, according to Chiang, was for Jonathan to stop seeing about me. Except for the fact that I knew that people from the institute. Fletcher shook his head and stretched his wings and opened his eyes.

"How is he telling them?" They're a thousand miles from heaven - and you say you want to show them shut, unable to feel my arms or my legs, when Kirill spoke. "But hey, man, where did they learn to fly like that?"

The boundaries of the Zone: the black growth ended at the curb as if it had his sixteen point vertical slow roll and the next day topped it off with a accustomed to the light, too, and then pointed out the web to him. Point it directly into his path, calling for its mother. With a tenth of a second.

Comments

[Ben]

I recognize this spam. (How sad is that?)

Lines from one source are alternated with lines from another source, so you don't have anything coherent. The one I got was Anna Karenina alternating with Jonathan Livingston Seagull, by Richard Bach. I do recognize some of the text you have here as being from the latter.

[Amy Ginko]

Awesome... I think you have a great book idea here.