Kyle 2030

3 Jun
“Kyle?” The top of the letter reads.

I begin to answer “Yes?” but quickly realize I’d be addressing a piece of paper and stop before I embarrass myself.

“Got you.” The next line reads. Damn it. Who wrote this?

I scan down to the bottom and a chill runs through me. It reads:
“Hugs and Kisses, Yourself in 2030.”

I read the letter. *Cut to me in 31 years, writing letter to me in the past. I’m ripped as hell.

Dearest Past Kyle,
How’s it going? Don’t bother telling me. I already know. I’m from the future, remember? Isn’t time travel screwy?

The Future: Nothing like this.

The Future: Nothing like this.

Anyway, just a few things I’d like to give a heads up on. First of all, don’t sweat the fifth season of Lost. The sixth one, which you’ll be watching in a couple of months makes it all totally worth it. And please stop pitching your “Sawyer is an alien from the planet Sexy sent to make the world beautiful with his seed,” theory. That’s so off the mark I’m tempted to tear up this letter and use it as litter for my grizzly bear’s pen. Oh yea, we get a grizzly bear. Isn’t that badass? It’s still illegal, though, so don’t show this letter to any pigs–really, pigs. In my future there’s this totally bizarre Animal Farm thing going on. Pretty fucked up.

This is who I voted for this year. God, I disgust me.

This is who I voted for last year. God help us.

Oh, another thing. You know that recession everybody was so scared of? Turns out it was a just an incredibly elaborate Punk’ing. Just as the government is on the brink of collapse, Barack preparing to declare martial law, Ashton Kutcher stepped out from behind the flag in the Capitol Building and everybody burst out into relieved laughter. President Barack was the most vocal. ‘No you didn’t! Oh, No you didn’t! I can’t believe this!’

Savior of Democracy. Annoying as fuck.

Savior of democracy. Annoying as fuck.

Also, some personal things. You’re going to find out very soon that garlic crackers make you extremely gassy. Very soon after that you will find out that garlic crackers are one of the snacks to be served before your best friend’s wedding. Please. Don’t do it.

Okay. Bachelor’s parties are fun. Defecating in your hotel’s swimming pool is not. Come on, man.

Beware of scorpion women.

Hugs and Kisses, Yourself in 2030.

P.S. Remember to zip up your fly before you leave for work today. Oh, that’s right, you’re an unemployed bastard. Remember to zip up your fly before you sit on your ass and watch Wes play Zelda for a couple of hours.

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2 Responses to “Kyle 2030”

  1. nunie bubie June 3, 2009 at 4:33 pm #

    come brush my belly.

    sincerely,
    meow meows.

  2. ironwesley June 4, 2009 at 11:12 am #

    you called the future. zelda for HOURS

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