Marcy vs. Spam. Kind of.
Marcy is sitting at the computer responding to reader comments. She is smiling from ear to ear.
Marcy (gloating): I’m famous.
Cynthia: Oh… not quite yet.
Marcy: Oh yes. Everyone loves me. We’ve got 704 comments in our queue.
Cynthia (startled): What? That can’t be right.
Marcy: It’s right all right. Our readers love me. Here’s what they are saying –
I much prefer informative articles like this to that high brow literature.
You have more useful info than the British had colonies pre-WWII.
The genius store called, they’re running out of you.
Unparalleled accuracy, unequivocal clarity, and undeniable importance!
Call me wind because I am absolutely blown away.
Marcy: See? I’m famous and adored. People think I’m smart and talented.
Cynthia: Oh Marcy, that’s SPAM.
Marcy: Oh I love SPAM!!
Cynthia: No. SPAM isn’t real. It’s fake. It means –
Marcy (interrupting): Listen to this SPAM: “I just hope whoever writes these keeps writing more!”
Cynthia: Yeah… but…
Marcy (ecstatically): I’m so excited! I’m going to write another post right away so I get even more wonderful wonderful SPAM!
Marcy happily starts banging away at the keyboard. Cynthia doesn’t have the heart to tell her the truth.
Penelope Kitten emerges from her hiding spot under the sofa.
penelope kitten (licking her chops): i heard there’s spam.