Original Post
I found this while digging through some old files, I dont know where it originally came from, and I dont know if its ever been posted here before. Its old, and some of you may have seen this before, and it helps to have been a mud admin (preferably a rom-based mud) to fully appreciate the humor in it. With no further ado:
Quote:
I have a mud. It needed mortals. The pet store was selling them for 5 gold coins each. I thought this was odd, as mortals are usually valued more highly. I decided to respond when fate knocked, so I bought 200 of them. I took my mortals back to my mud. I have a big godly chariot. I let one of them drive. His name was Bill. He was stupid. In fact, all of them were stupid. Excessivly stupid. They kept punching each other in the face. I laughed. They tried to punch me in the face. I refrained from smiting them. I herded them into my mud. My mud now had a playerbase. They did not adapt well to this new environment. They kept making OOC comments and were all twinks. This managed to amuse me for all of three minutes. Two hours later I learned why they were all so cheap (besides their stupidity) They all died. No apparent reason. No mobs even in the room. I tried to flush one down the holy crapper. It didn't work. It got stuck. I now had 1 dead, wet mortal, and 199 dead, dry mortals. I tried to pretend they were just objects. That worked, until they started to decompose. It started to smell really bad. I threw up in the holy crapper because the smell was so bad. Now my 1 dead, wet mortal was a dead, wet mortal covered in holy vomit. I didn't want to call a plumber. I was embarassed. I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortunately there was only enough room in the freezer for two at a time, so I had to thaw them every 30 seconds. I tried to burn them, but little did I know that my holy bed was flammable, as was the immortal inn. I had to extinguish the fire. Then I had one dead, wet mortal in my toilet, two dead, frozen mortals in the icebox, and one hundred ninety-seven dead, charred mortals in a pile on my holy bed, and the odor wasn't improving. I became agitated at my inability to dispose of the dead mortals and I really had to use the holy bathroom. So I went and severely smited one of the mortals. I felt better. I tried throwing them away, but the janitor said the city was not allowed to dispose of charred mortals. I told him I had a wet one. He said this was immaterial. I didn't bother asking about the frozen ones. I finally arrived at a solution: I gave them out as Christmas gifts. The other immortals didn't quite know what to say. They pretended to like them, but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates. So I smited them and forced them to listen to an eternity of the Backstreet Boys. I hate mortals.