I asked the oracle how long I would live.
Her answer was "Nooooo-oooh!" Since I can be one pessimistic huntsman sometimes, I interpret this to mean that I'll have many years left to me, but that age will make me into an ugly, gnarled, toothless old walking mummy. No wonder she screamed. On the plus side, the embalmers won't have to do much prep work when I do keel over!