"Pump your schlong!"

Ah, yes...that, my friends, is the poetic subject line of a spam email I was just sent by a helpful soul named "Bondiek Marco." In his evocative yet fractured English, Mr Marco goes on to say:

Yo dude

Don't tell me why your one-eyed monster is so small,
I will better help you to make it really Bigger!

Why bigger? Because over 82% of all women need a longer
ramrod to satisfy their desire!

Go there and get your solution: http://rapvideoaudtion.info

It'll really help you!

We will ship it worldwide within 24 hours, and if
you find our product useless - we'll refund all your money!

But that's not all, dear readers. In order to claw his way past my emails spam filters (which are about as resilient as the proverbial wet paper bag), Mr. Marco was kind enough to include the following section of gripping prose:

treasurer replaced the receiver and glanced round to the window behind his back. Through the sparse leaves of a sycamore tree he saw the moon flying through a translucent cloud. He seemed to be mesmerised by the branches of the tree and the longer Rimsky stared at them the more strongly he felt the grip of fear.

Pulling himself together the treasurer finally turned away from the moonlit window and stood up. There was now no longer any question of telephoning and Rimsky could only think of one thing--how to get out of the theatre as quickly as possible. He listened : the building was silent. He realised that for some time

And that's where it ends! Nooo! How cruel! I was just getting into it! So many burning questions are left unanswered! Why was the moon flying? Did Rimsky get out of the theatre? I can't take the suspense!

I have no choice: I must email Bondiek Marco and insist that he send me the rest of the story. If he refuses to do that, I guess I would be willing to accept some of his miracle dick creme instead.