Unanswered love.
I just received an email from a certain Mary Kane, the daughter of Joseph Kane Wattarah, the apparently famous and recently assassinated politician based in Abidjan.
The thing is, she needs my bank account information to transfer $10.500.000,- (or, as she puts it, ten million five hundred thousand United States of American dollars) to my bank account.
Furthermore, she calls me sweetheart (or, sweet heart, rather) twice, and dearest one once, but she never refers to me by my name, which struck me as odd, but I think I can live with that.
My reward for helping her out (besides her undying love, of course), would be 15% of 'her total fund', which amounts to ..[*fails making the calculations and refuses to go find a calculator*].. a shitload of money.
I decided to reply to her kind hearted plea for help.
My reply:
Cheers
The thing is, she needs my bank account information to transfer $10.500.000,- (or, as she puts it, ten million five hundred thousand United States of American dollars) to my bank account.
Furthermore, she calls me sweetheart (or, sweet heart, rather) twice, and dearest one once, but she never refers to me by my name, which struck me as odd, but I think I can live with that.
My reward for helping her out (besides her undying love, of course), would be 15% of 'her total fund', which amounts to ..[*fails making the calculations and refuses to go find a calculator*].. a shitload of money.
I decided to reply to her kind hearted plea for help.
My reply:
Honey bunny,Now I wait - I have my fingers crossed.
Of course I am willing to help you out with your financial problems, and you know what, love lumps? I'll do it for free; you can keep the 15% in your own pocket. How's that?
All I ask is that you confirm my suspicions, which are as follows. While an unsuspecting eye might read your letter as a plea for help, I read between the lines, and saw it as a declaration of undying and unconditional love. For me.
Now, now, no need to be coy, cuddle cakes. When I picked up on the signs, it became crystal clear; you have monitored me, in order to determine if I could be of help to you, and you did what anyone would in that situation - you fell for me.
All I ask of you is to no longer hide that love, to surrender yourself to me, because I love you, too. I don't know you, yet I love you. I need you. I crave you.
Besides, twinkie twinkie, I want to know what is hiding beneath that burka - I bet you have a sexy little body waiting for me to discover, and if not, hey, there's nothing ten million five hundred thousand United States of American dollars can't fix, huh?
And what do you care, you're used to being enslaved anyway. So, get over here and we can talk.
What do you say, butter buns?
Yours forever,
Noodle.
Cheers
1 Comments:
hey Martin. i just wanted say thank you for the nice comment on blogarians. And what's strange about your "Unanswered love" post is it that i got an e-mail very similiar to yours. the only difference that the person from e-mailing me was from Africa supposively. I can't believe some of these fraudulant antics these lowlives pull.
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