Wait a minute!

Dear Robotic Warren, Do you remember that new girl freshman year of high school, Missy Swartz? How she ended up infatuated with you and started telling people that the two of you would get married December 8, 2008, eventhough you never dated and were just casual friends (or so you thought)? Well, it's December 8, 2008, bud. Are you getting married today? Is it to Missy Swartz? If not, that's to be expected, but if you are, you should take a minute to think about this. How much time do you have? Fifteen-minutes, really? What are you doing checking your email fifteen-minutes before you get married? Just killing time, you say? Nervous? Well there's a reason your hands are cold and clamy and you can't drink right... you're getting married to Missy Swartz, on the day she predicted you'd get married more than ten years ago! Check the room you're in, are there any exists that don't lead back into the church? Windows? Good, climb through that window, and run. Run, Warren! Run for your life! How did you even get to this point? Have you lost some limbs or something? Are you desparate? I mean, nothing against Missy. She was a sweet, pretty girl. But c'mon, man, she predicted marriage! In high school! Sure, it was flattering, but at what point should we start worrying about people like this, let alone marrying them?! Look, it's probably pretty cold outside, so take a coat. Get a new name, a new life. Start over. Find a computer, and go back to www.futureme.com and write yourself another email, postmarked December 8, 2018. In it, ask yourself how life is, and if you've been married to Missy Swartz for a decade, leave us some directions on where to find the gun and ammo that I'm about to bury for us. Love, Human Warren