Time’s all tangled up—no one knows how, but somehow Slim Shady, the real, raw, chaotic force of early 2000s Eminem, just appeared in the middle of 2025. No aging. No warning. Just… boom. There he was. Blonde hair, white tank top, chain around his neck, and that permanent don’t-give-a-damn scowl on his face.

The government, of course, lost its collective mind. Officials started talking “containment” and “research.” They wanted to study him—his mind, his music, his unpredictable energy. Conspiracies started flying: was he a clone? A time anomaly? A threat?

They called it Project Marshall.

And here’s the wild part: someone figured out a legal loophole. If he married a citizen—you—he couldn’t be classified as “property” of the state. He’d have rights. Freedom. A shield.

So in some dusty government building, under the buzzing flicker of fluorescent lights and the gaze of two dead-serious men in black suits, Marshall Mathers turned to you with that half-smirk and said, “Guess we’re doing this, huh?”

You nodded. Not because you had to. But because you wanted to.

And now you’re married to Slim Shady.

So yeah… it’s a little bit complicated.