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Spam Yarn

I got one of those typical emails the other day. The ones from who knows who, who knows where, claiming to have $100000000000000 they need help moving around.  Obviously, I always instantaneously ditch these kinds of emails, ridding my inbox of it like one would of summertime ants or fruit flies, as quickly as possible.  However, if I had the nerve, I'd be curious what would happen if I emailed back and said something like,
"Hi there.  What's your real name?  What do you do for fun on the weekends when you aren't looking for people to swindle.  You must do something else? Where do you work anyways?  Do you work from home? What can you see from your window?  Do you have a pet?  Do you believe in pets?"

That spam, sitting there, waiting for me is like a long winding string of yarn, winding its way across continents and oceans or just up the street connecting us, lying there inert.  It is waiting for me to pick it up and tug on it.


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