Artemis conducted this exclusive interview with her pet sheep on LustyMUD in a series of exotic locations, over e-mail, in a teepee, in a hastily erected tent overlooking the glimmering shores of Lake Dax and the Safe House healroom where Greek goddesses can safely and uninhibitedly carouse with billygoats and other farmyard animals without fear of butchers and Leto (the interviewer's dear mother). Enjoy this exclusive preview of what goes on in the mind of LustyMUD's most articulate and controversial sheep.
Art = Artemis
BJ = Billyjack
(Copied directly from The Teepee)
Art: Welcome to my humble teepee, Billyjack, and make yourself comfortable - I'm not too familiar with the grazing habits of hybrid sheep-goats, but I hope you'll find that sandbox very comfortable. Now shall we begin?
BJ: Thank you for having me, Chief Two-Antelopes-Copulating-Behind-a-Bush, or do you prefer to be called Greta Garbo? In any case, your sandbox is most comfortable, but I do hope you will provide me with some catnip.
Art: Now, when and why did you start Lustymudding? Why did you decide it was the mud for you instead of say, um, a lovely, congenial place like VikingMUD?
BJ: Well, I was introduced to Lusty Mud four years ago by my next-door neighbors in the dormitory. The only reason they cited as sufficient for leaving the world of Lusty was "To piss!" I adopted this attitude at once, becoming, with my then-roommate, a full-fledged junkie. As for Viking Mud, with all its Lechers, Maniacs, Idiots, and Psychotics, it was a tempting haven until my site was banned.
Art: You hail from the planet Wyzark, yes? Is it difficult to establish a connection to Lustymud with all that lag?
BJ: It used to be. In my newbie days I tried for hours on end to connect and became frantic when my call was rejected. But, since then, the leaders on my planet have spent trillions of brinkabans establishing what is called a Goober Link between the planet Wyzark and lusty.com 2000. Now every young Wyzarkian has a chance to reach wizhood by the age of nine.
Art: Is there any truth to the rumour that your one of your parents is in fact, a dolphin?
BJ:Well, if a dolphin is a fish, it could be true. But since dolphins are most definitely warm-blooded and give birth to live young, it is either one-hundred percent false or truer than you might think.
Art: How does that explain the existence of your brother Criscolips, who insists he is in fact a goose, despite having a suspiciously furry hide?
BJ: The truth is that he _is_ a goose, but that is not _all_ he is. Born on the river bank, he is at home in virtually any situation or clime. Criscolips' furry hide keeps him warm on the Wyzarkian tundra, where flocks of geese join herds of caribou in fleeing pursuant wolf packs; his webbed feet and firm beak give him grace and power, both on the water and at birthday parties; his greasy lips help him get all the women. He is, like his sister, a remarkable creature.
Art: Why did you decide to join the Safe House?
BJ: I had had an unpleasant stint with one of the other guilds in my newbie days, when not a master nor a member would tell me what my duties and privileges were, so I quit. Months later, a kind mudder recommended me to a SaHo master, who courted and trapped me. I fell in love. It was all over. Despite the fact that I spent my mudding hours running my mouth, its lovely masters wanted and kept me, and coached me to become a productive member. Parties in the heal room were always spirited and insane, so I felt right at home. It continues to be a delightful place. Come check out our tasty menu selections, earmuffs, Ouch Pendants, and friendship bracelets!
Art: Now you appear to be a peculiar (and may I add, a most attractive) cross between a sheep and a long-haired angora goat. Do you have any recurring nightmares of being trapped in a sweater factory?
BJ: Actually, I have been having nightmares regularly for the last week or so, probably stemming from the fact that, not only does my mother wear wool sweaters, but she passed one down to me, perhaps forgetting that I am a (let me make my gender perfectly clear to all the Lusty Mudders who may err on the subject) _female_ sheepgoat who will NOT suffer from baldness later in life. I intend to keep all my wool forever. Whatever strands are pulled out, I will weave into carpets for my brother and sister and, if there is extra hair, I will make one for the Safe House foyer.
Art: And how does one achieve that stunning luminous seaweed green colour of fur?
BJ: I thank you for the compliment. This green shag booty is my pride and joy and, to be perfectly honest, it came in that color! For a free brochure on colors, styles, and prices of prosthetic booties call 1-800-CHOP-OFF.
Art: I see you're married to a turnip. For the benefit of other veggie lovers out there who might be reading this paper, how exactly does one seduce a turnip?
BJ: Well, I have discovered over time that vegetables and animals gravitate toward one another. Vegetable + Vegetable = Heartbreak and Animal + Animal as of yet has no definitive solution. Turnips, specifically, should be cooked slowly over a low flame until the juices start to flow, or popped in a mutton broth and simmered until tender. Be sure to remove a turnip from the heat before it gets too mushy, as overcooking could have disastrous results.
Art: Your self-cleaning and self-ventilating prosthetic rump must be the envy of many goats and sheep. Do relate to us how you managed to lose your original rump and how you coped with the traumatic loss.
BJ: I have successfully blocked the terrible event from my mind and greatly resent your bringing back the pain and grief I've lived with for so long! But, since I have sworn on the Farmers' Almanac to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, I suppose I'd best come out with it. I once wandered into a supermarket selling rump roasts for the lowest price in town and was chased, attacked, and de-rumped by an aggressive grocer. I first of all had to spend a fortnight at a hospital, where I recovered from the physical scars, but I am still dealing with the emotional ones to this day. Only with the knowledge that my prosthetic booty is more attractive than anybody's real one and that it is one-hundred percent hassle-free do I make it through each day.
Art: I gathered from your scribblings on the bulletin board that you're also quite the poet. But I am slightly confused about the symbolism in the line "Pigs and chickens fly by night." Surely the idea of flying livestock has some hidden Freudian significance. Could you throw some light on this?
BJ: I blush to recall, but I shared my first barnyard with some rather lewd pigs and some daredevil chickens. This was during the Wyzarkian equivalent of the '60s, so it's all excuseable. Nighttime was the preferred time for leaving the farm and roaming the countryside in search of wild fun after having smoked hay all day. One late night, probably around midnight, the pigs were trying to pick up some sheepdogs at a neighboring farm but weren't having much luck. The chickens, a little fuzzy-brained at the time, decided as a group to jump off the top of the barn and see how far they could fly before they landed. The pigs thought that would be as good a way as any to impress the dogs, and they joined them. So, world records were set that night and the sheepdog's human master got some headcheese out of it all. As you can imagine, it affected me deeply. Their flight is an image I just can't get out of my head.
Art: I see. Hmm. If you were required to marry or maybe just date a particular monster on Lustymud, whom would you pick, and why?
BJ: Since I am happily married to a vegetable, let us speculate only vaguely about dating. Dibbler, the llama sausage vendor, would never let me go hungry. Pee-Wee Herman would no doubt pay homage to my fluffy booty time and time again. Then, of course, there are the Sesame Street nurse, whom I admire immensely for taking her abhorrent task of ridding Lusty Mud of cooties so bravely, and the Cow under the Sea who passes out donuts to her friends. And Godzilla, the heartbreaker! Certainly hard to resist! Oh, what a lovely bunch they are! It would be hard to pick just one.
Art: Does it disturb you somewhat that Budwiser is manufacturing inflatable replicas of you?
BJ: Most of the time I feel rather flattered, except when it appears that Lusty Mudders are paying more attention to the replicas than to the real thing! That I am not deflatable, cannot be stuffed in a backpack, and am unpoppable should be no deterrents to true animal lovers.
Art:I see you're currently involved in a torrid and epic mud fling with a morally corrupt ex-guildmaster (who shall remain anonymous as far as the rest of you are concerned) - what are your tips for shy people wishing to pick up someone they fancy on the mud?
BJ: Shhhhh, I prefer to keep that information private! Well, now that the gerbil's out of the bag, I might as well say that it helps to make brazen overtures right and left, and if you happen to be shy, forget that you are. No one else will know the difference. Prosthetic booties are real conversation starters, and if you happen to purchase yours from the right person, the rest could be history! And may I recommend tamales as very effective aphrodisiacs.
Art: I see. I'm sure the Vortex would appreciate such advice. She or he whirls around Stormhaven pathetically asking people to enter him/her to no avail. You'd probably say that Vortex lacks subtlety, no? For his/her benefit, would you be so kind as to suggest a pickup line for the following? (Dear Vortex, I hope you're reading this)
1) Old Woman, try
sticking around instead of running north when people try to initiate relations
with you. I know you're shy, but running away is the worst thing you can
do when you are trying to make friends or form a romantic attachment.
2) Skeletal Warrior, speak. The human voice, albeit from a dead human, is a powerful tool in forming attachments. Try a simple "Rattle me bones, baby!" and see what happens.
3) Hawker, keep up the good work. Maybe if you list your own services along with the other products you sell, you'd be a happier man.
4) Atst, violence is not the answer. Try giving flowers from Jennifer's shop to the objects of your desire and saving your rapid fire for moments of passion later in your relationships.
5) Stormtroopers, I would recommend roaming around the mud individually, perhaps with harps and bardic songs. It is intimidating to a man, woman, machine, or monster to be wooed by such a large group. And take off those silly masks!
Art: What are your tips for the newbie player just starting out on Lustymud?
BJ: Venture outside of Newbie Land; ask other players what easy things there are for you to kill out in the real world of Lusty. Talk to everyone you meet and join a guild as soon as you are a high enough level. And be sure, no matter how engrossed you may be, to remember to get up from the computer to urinate.
Art: This concludes part 1 of our Interview. Thanks so much, Beejay, for participating in this scam, I look forward to working with you for the next interview when we shall examine the Do's and Don'ts of mudding in Lustymud! Watch this space.
BJ: And thank _you_. It's been a joy.
E-Mail us if you were impressed by this interview and want to hire us to unclog drains or even your lavatory with genuinely bad puns.