Often created by sad bastards who have nothing better to do with their lives, chain letters usually threaten to do horrible things to you if you don't re-send them to x amount of people within x minutes of receiving them. If you follow the instructions within the given chain letter, then a myriad of wonderful things will happen to you. In order to convince the recipient of the chain letter's power, they commonly incorporate the phrase: "Dis iz so scari cos it actualli werks," or something along those lines. (It may be worth noting, however, that the majority of chain letters' origins lie with illiterates, so they seldom have any grammatical value and can prove very difficult to understand.) Inevitably, the other sad bastards who receive the chain letter believe this crap, and re-send it to all their friends...that is, if they have any...
An 'Illiterate-speak to English' translated chain letter:
"You will have the best day of your entire existence tomorrow if you send this to 1241234234.9238429387423 x 10³ and a half other people within the next 3.3482349872 recurring minutes. Then press F4, F6; hold down Num Lock with your left testicle; press alt three times, with tenuto on the last tap; hit Caps Lock with staccato, with a time signature of 6/8 for the first two bars, then 16/12 for the remaining bars; press Esc. to the rhythm of 'Silent Night'; play the bassline from Beethoven's 5th Symphony in the key of Ab major on the wire of your mouse, with pizzicato throughout; stand on your nose and recite pi in binary. Then, your name, but in Icelandic, will appear on the screen in the font 'Comic Sans'. This is quite frightening because it actually works. If you don't resend this then your Maths teacher will sneak into your room at 12.03 tonight whilst you are asleep and stick photographs of his phallus over your eyes with superglue, so that will be the first thing you see when you awaken in the morning. If you are still awake at 12.03, then he will come out from underneath your bed, chop you up into cubic centimetres and then put you into his geometry set with some kangaroo crap that he measured earlier. Then, you'll get AIDS from a rabid dog that's addicted to crack - who actually mistook you for a schizophrenic next door neighbour - and die from leprosy because Mahatma Gandhi teleported you to Iraq; then to the Vietnam War, which was, incidentally, where Saddam Hussein was having a homosexual encounter with Bin Laden, and George Bush was co-existing with fish and putting food on Al-Qaeda's families (and genitals). When you're dead, a random Goth will tear himself away from his BDSM orgy that he was engaged in with an array of farmyard animals and come to your funeral in his hearse. Here, he will shit on your grave: 'Uhh, that's better!'"
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