spampoet

spampoetry: poetry that comes from spam (junk email)

Monday, August 28, 2006

Rolling his handkerchiefinto a ball he tossed and caught it in his bare toes. Monsieur le Prefect, I regretthat I can be of no more service to you. The doors stood ajar; andthere was a man in every one of them. My office and all itscontents have been destroyed by a fire of unknown origin.
I have seen Grim eat with murderers and sleep withrebels.

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