Rumplenarcskin

 

rumplenarcskin

Once there was a Lieutenant who was poor, but who had a beautiful empathic daughter. Now it happened that he had to go and speak to the NarcKing and in order to curry favour with the NarcKing and provide some residual benefits, the Lieutenant said to the king, “I have a daughter who can spin rubbish into mesmerising brilliance, for example, BS into golden periods.”

The NarcKing said to the Lieutenant, “That is a craft which pleases me well, if your daughter is as clever as you say, bring her tomorrow to the Palace of Lost Hope and I will put her to the test.”

And when the empathic daughter was brought to the NarcKing, he took her into a compartment which was quite full of BS, gave her a spinning-wheel and a reel and said,

“I don’t like using my energy, so I need you to spin this BS into golden periods which I can use over my ensnared subjects. If by tomorrow you have not spun all this BS into golden periods, you must be discarded and smeared.”

     Thereupon the NarcKing locked the empathic daughter in the compartment and left her to go and hoover the visiting Queen of Sheba. So sat the poor Lieutenant’s daughter and for the life of her could not tell what to do. She never told lies and was an honest person and thus she had no idea how BS could be spun into golden periods. She grew more and more frightened until at last she began to weep.

But all at once the door opened and in came a little man and he said, “Good evening Mistress Empath why on earth are you wasting all that delicious negative fuel on a room full of BS?”

“Alas,” answered the girl, “I have to spin this BS into golden periods and I do not know how to do it.”

“What will you give me if I do it for you?” asked the little man, rubbing his hands in anticipation.

“I have nothing but my admiration and appreciation to give you,” replied the Lieutenant’s daughter.

“That’ll do,” grinned the little man.

He seated himself in front of the wheel and whirr, whirr, whirr, the reel was full. He put on another reel and then another and so he went on until the morning spinning the BS until all that existed were reels of golden periods.

By daybreak the NarcKing was already there for he did not sleep much and when he saw all the golden periods he was delighted, but his dark heart became only more greedy. He had the Lieutenant’s daughter taken into another room full of BS which was much larger.

“Right, I have a banquet coming up and I cannot be arsed to trot out all my false anecdotes yet again, so I need you to spin some more golden periods for me to pull over the eyes and ears of everybody who is attending. This BS has been festering for time immemorial, blimey, if I knew how to, I would be embarrassed at some of its content. Get this lot into golden periods in the course of one night or I will discard you. smear you and malign hoover you repeatedly.” commanded the NarcKing.

    Dismayed the girl began to weep again and in an instant the little man had re-appeared in the room once again.

“Holy Toledo, are you mad? So much fuel and you are wasting it.”

“I am sorry but I blame myself for everything, that is just the way I am. I have to spin this roomful of BS into golden periods or I am going to have a torrid time of it from the king.”

“I see. What will you give me then if I do it for you?” asked the little man.

“I have nothing but I can only give you my appreciation and admiration again,” replied the girl.

“Nah, had plenty of that from you, it is boring and stale. Tell you what, I will sit and do the spinning and call you all the bad names in the world so you cry and then I will have your tears and misery.”

“Really? That seems a strange thing to do when I could be so gushing and appreciative for you. Honestly, I would always admire you, forever, you have been so kind to me.”

“Save it kid, turn on the waterworks or your ass belongs to the king,” declared the little man.

“Very well,” answered the girl.

Thus the little man set to work and as the girl wept and wailed, he chortled to himself as he worked his way through the A-Z of Devaluing Insults, calling her all manner of awful things. By dawn all the BS had become golden periods.

The NarcKing bowled up and rejoiced with the power sparking in his eyes at the sight of so many golden periods which he could dole out over unsuspecting victims. Still, it was not enough and he had the Lieutenant’s daughter taken into a massive room full of BS.

“Goodness me, who created all this BS?” asked the girl amazed that such a quantity could be accumulated.

“Have you never heard one of my speeches?” asked the NarcKing somewhat irked.

“Spin all of this into golden periods and do it in one night and if you succeed I shall make you my intimate partner primary source, er I mean wife.”

The NarcKing departed to malign hoover the residents of a nearby village and left the girl alone. In time the little man appeared.

“Well I’ll go to the foot of our stairs!” he announced when he saw the mountains of BS around the girl, “I thought I could spout it, but this guy, he takes some beating.”

“What will you give me if I spin the BS into golden periods a third time?” he asked

“I have nothing left. I am all cried out and feel numb.”

“That’s not much good. I tell you what, if you become queen you are bound to get knocked-up by NarcKing so you are bound to him, so I will take your first born child for the purposes of triangulation.”

Who knows whether that will ever happen, thought the Lieutenant’s Daughter and not knowing how else to help herself in this strait, she agreed.

And when the NarcKing rolled in at 6am after a night of seduction, he found all as he had wished and took the Lieutenant’s Daughter in marriage and she became an intimate partner primary source and was treated like a queen.

About a year later she brought a beautiful child into the world and never gave a thought about the funny little man, but one evening, showing a flagrant disregard for boundaries, the little man wandered into her chamber and said,

“I have a huge sense of entitlement so give me what I want.”

The queen was horror-struck and offered the funny little man her character traits and many residual benefits including a full subscription to Netflix and exclusive use of a crystal carriage but the little man refused.

“No, the hoover fuel and triangulation potential of your child are far dearer to me than binging on science fiction shows all day.”

 

  Then the queen began to howl and cry. The little man had not experienced her negative fuel for a year so it made him feel better and he wondered whether he would be best keeping the queen as a non-intimate secondary source who he could keep returning to.

“I tell you what, seeing as I am a decent chap or at least so my façade thinks, I will give you three days and if by that time you find out my name, then you shall keep your child.”

So the queen thought the whole night of all the names that she had ever heard, and she instructed a messenger to ride all over the country to inquire, far and wide, for any other names that there might be. The messenger, who had been through this song and dance so many times decided instead to head to the castle library and do some research about this peculiar little man which the queen had described. He found some tomes by a sagely individual known as T G Hudor. He settled down to read the books which went by titles such as “Fairy Tale Fury”, “Going No Contact and Dispelling Annoying Little Men” and “Begone! How to Beat Funny Little Men.” Rather than waste time finding out names, the wise messenger read and read and then he just picked up the list of names from the last time he was sent on the quest and handed it to the queen for her to use before he headed back to his research.

When the little man came the next day, she began with Soulmate, True Love and Shining Star, and said all the names she knew, one after another, but to every one the little man said, “That is not my name.”

On the second day she had inquiries made on a popular blog as to the names of the people the commenters there knew, and she repeated to the funny little man the most uncommon and curious. Perhaps your name is Tubby, or Dickula, or Narcopath , but he always answered, “That is not my name.”

On the third day the messenger, who frankly found all this name-gathering nonsense a chore, came back again, and said, “I have not been able to find a single new name so I guess you are up shit creek.”

“Oh my goodness, ” cried the queen, “what am I to do, I do not want to lose my child and have it triangulated by Yoda’s uglier brother.”

The messenger had seen this played out many times before but just went along with it usually as the pay at the castle was good and the view from his turret was impressive, so he went through the ritual of this repeated hoovering by the funny little man. After many years though, the messenger had made some important gains in his research and besides he wanted to get through a few box sets so he felt it was time that the charade came to an end.

 

“Your majesty, if I may make a suggestion, when this Rum… er funny little man appears, don’t worry about knowing his name, but instead ignore him.”

“Ignore him, but why?”

“Trust me, I’ve endured this scenario thirty times in my lifetime and to be frank, I need a break from all of the running around on ridiculous quests and errands. If you want this weirdo to clear off, just ignore him. I can guarantee he will not take your child.”

And when soon afterwards the little man came in, and asked, “Now, mistress queen, what is my name?”

The Queen said nothing.

“I said what is my name?”

The Queen stared out of the window.

“My name? My name? What is it?” hollered the little man jumping from foot to foot.

But the Queen took the advice of the messenger and ignored the little man quite completely. No matter what he said to her, how much of a scene he made, she just ignored him until in his ignited fury he plunged his right foot so deep into the earth that his whole leg went in, and then in a rage he pulled at his left leg so hard with both hands that he tore himself in two and was gone.

The Queen smiled and cradled her child as the messenger thanked his own personal god that the merry go round had finally ended.

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63 thoughts on “Rumplenarcskin”

  1. Wow! Look what happens when you ignore the narc.
    Our kind wins.
    One for us.
    Thanks for my bedtime story HG.
    Goodnight

    I’m sure my fairy tale Pandora bracelet and shirt that reads “Once upon a time” scream empath! Lol

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      1. I do. Lol.. I started it a couple of years ago and wanted it to represent my favorite stories. I have my poisonous apple and a fairytale storybook, Alice in wonderland and her rabbit and teacup, Harry Potter owl and snake, mermaid, Elsa crown, Love birds, and a fairy.
        I know that shows off my aura but it makes me happy so I’m still going to wear it. Lol

        Hi PRH,
        I see more and more signs that I gave to my ex everyday. Then when you add the costumes she must have thought “this is beyond easy.

        Happy New Year to you PRH!

        See Indy when I write stuff I sometimes think I must sound crazy😂😂😂

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      2. Hi PRH,
        That was a nice video to share. Thanks!
        And how did you know that I have one spot left for the London bus? Lol
        I have always had a thing for the British flag.

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      3. Lol Snow White- you’re welcome and let us know if you use that bus, lol can you get me a pic of the lions in Trafalgar with seven dwarfs 🙂 they are awesome and I would give the Mad Hatter Hotel a miss 😉

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      4. Snow, you are far from ‘an easy catch’. She was incredibly lucky to have found you!! Women like you don’t come a dime a dozen. I love your bracelet and t-shirt!
        I’ve wanted to go to Disneyland just to have them dress me up as one of their princesses.

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      5. You say the nicest things Love.
        Thanks! I share.

        Now that’s sounds like an incredible day Love. The best place for fairytales and dressing up. They do have the Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique for us there. All sorts of glitter, makeup, and colored hair for us.

        HG, that would be a place full of people like me.

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  2. Happy New Year HG! The climate in my sub-tropic region is known for having an influence over the people and what we call troppo’, and the Christmas, New year period was extremely hot and humid except for Christmas day itself, a day of some respite from the blazing sun and unrelenting heat. The blame game is an escape route for accountability and ownership of wrong-doing. The empath’s are easy scapegoats yet with them removing themselves, the issues and and problems indeed keep surfacing around them.

    NarcKIng and the hobbit, is the story. Who is the empath in the story? Nothing, she is nothing under the realm of a fairytale for the children that got stuck and the children full of resentment and payback because their mummy failed and their mummy is still encroaching whether she is physically in the picture or not. The very one woman and the first meeting from a woman that twisted her son!

    Te purple elephant turned purple because he did not accept that his name should be dumbo,’ He was driven from the the plains of the western nothingness, to fly in the sky and land himself in the abodes and lives of others because he needed so much to be told he did not have big ears, or that he was dumb. Mother elephant birthed him and it was long and tedious, he was a shiny new utensil just like her new mixer. She extended herself to everyone than dumbo. She ostrised him and alienated him from his own family. She targeted her own child as worthy of a title to extend the frustrations that she wanted to be powerful, she wanted and needed power over her family unit.

    She was from a family where she felt left out, she felt dumb, ignored, nothing special from her family. She would seek and suck in her revenge to destroy the life of her son and teach those that rained on her parade, a thing or two!

    She did it intentionally, she carried on a tradition and she knew she had failed, so the next generation should be punished, be dealt punitive blows if they dared to see and feel her game.

    Once the veil had been pierced by the all inquiring son, he began to fantasise how it should be and lived his life, portraying his fairytales. He never moved from his family home, he remained stuck and on a ledge and created his environment as rough as it was as his security blanket.

    He would never suffer pain again, he would make them pay, and that he did but he would function on an all knowing, all planning and all controlled environment.

    Nothing would penetrate that black hole, it was his motivation, his purpose to get back at mummy dearest without having the courage to face her, man to woman- not son to mother.

    The KIng of the narcs stood firm in his grandiose fairytale, he would portray himself as the highest, he would cover his pain and rejection from the first woman he encountered and attempted to love only to be cast aside so cruelly and so vindictively to know his place was a feeling of ‘not belonging.’

    The first woman in his life, was strong and disciplined. She accepted nothing but her way or the highway. She invited the gremlins in and she acquired the hobbits, anyone who could train her child to believe and accept that her way was the best feminine introduction her beautiful and treasured son because she did not want another, a female, a beautiful woman full of everything she could and would not display, any hope of connecting with him.

    He became the KIng of Kings and it was the only sure bet that he had to make him feel wanted, needed, loved, cared for, but it matters not how many come and go, because his first love, his mother let him down and committed treachery against her shiny new appliance.

    Carrying this wound throughout his life to ensure that every single facet was given excuse, he threw himself out in the universe to save others from the fate or destinies, that he battled with on a minute to minute and daily basis. He controlled the environment and he would do anything, say anything, recruit anyone, to NEVER FEEL THAT SAME REJECTION OF AN THE CHILD SEEKING HIS PLACE IN THE WORLD AS A UNIQUE AND VERY SPECIAL CHILD!

    So the story goes, that Rumple…..was nothing more than a tiny pest, an opportunist and a lesser narcissist. Immediate gratification, power and control would be his. He invaded what one could do because he showed that he could become robotic and achieve it, like an appliance freezes the food, toasts the bread whilst he lavishly spreads the butter and blackberry jam, because mummy used to call him, ‘piggy-big-eyes.’

    Piggy Big Eyes, meant that a hungry child, should be met with a chipped plate of boiled offal! Child learns that this is inhumane, child learns that it will not be provided unless he pays his way. Childhood and any development is terminated, aborted yet they still live. Mother, lives on and mother dominates child, dead or alive to recreate a comfort zone, no matter the challenge.

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  3. Apologies for the typo’s- Bonnie came home and landed on me, then to my pc. Son, (my son) of matrinarc (in drag-male) snapped the key next to it, when I asked him how to restore the key Bonnie removed. He lifted the key up and snapped it off, I was like, WTF!

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  4. Sickening to have a male acting like his mother. A mother I never met, yet I know she was the dominant force in his life because the stark reality is that I deal with two parents that are not mine. He switches every single minute and by placing the radar on me, gets to live out his life, deceiving, splitting (two children- new born babe (him) and half sister (sister) using them against each other to take pride and place as the golden child. She was 36 months of age, children at three- well know and have bonded with their mother, The witch allowed the conception of the boy baby, on her living room floor and opportunistically appeared like a hurricane and took both! Why should this have been played out in my life? An upbringing free of any of this abusive background?

    The background has dominated my life with T. Weird and every moment is her vs him. I know him not. I have felt his cold and distant presence, I have tried to make things right when it was not my job to do so. I am not their child, nor should I have been made to feel to accept the scapegoated blame! He should go get some help and the purple elephant has a long memory and knows herself so well, that no rumple….skin shall continue to impose that what does not belong to me!

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  5. Very unfair and wrong that I should have the knowledge of someones background, through the same punitive measures when I am a feeling person! What does this freak N want from me???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

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  6. He knows I am on this site, he pretends he is looking at the storm clouds, I could not care less. He read this fable and on his tippy toes as per usual at my kitchen bench an work area, like a smartass sixteen year old. He read it and said, ‘What a load of sh*t, he obviously doesn’t have a life! ‘Stupid, he said, just stupid loners and keyboard warriors!’

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  7. This little tale has triggered me enormously HG. Not your fault, nor do I direct any blame toward you, it is just a coincidence and I called him this name over the weekend- I also have been heavily interested in the Queen of the South and how she was seduced and tricked, by preparation of very hot food-perhaps chilies and King Solomon instructed his aids to deny any water vessels for the Queen Of Sheba. She made her way into his domain, as she thirsted and he was the only person with a vessel of water. Seduction and e set it up that way.

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  8. WOW! my room was filled with WOWs and my kids were watching me weirdly… MASTER MASTER OF WORDS. .. story transformer and maker THE BEST … I soooo loved it. It is so amazingly done… Mixed up stories …. pleasure for my soul! thank You HG for that morning “coffee “

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  9. Another great tale HG. Ohhhh how I remember the ignoring of the the little man. The stomping of the feet and all.
    Can we empaths not just find that cookie cutter that they are all cut from?? Let me be the one to stomp on it, oh please…….??? As for the narc king…..off with his head!!
    T Y HG.

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  10. Thank you HG for confirming the absolute truth. I never expected to thank a sociopath narcissist but there is a rumplestiltskin around me and it is very odd, bizarre——–
    So now you are a mind reader, using the cryptic? I don’t understand how uncanny timely your posts are? Weird, very weird—-eve the narc is throwing insylts your way, but in your writing you are sneaking in hints and ways to erode the narx and unlike your posts, my son is a pawn and will obey every spoken word of the N. That hurts heaps, I know how much I love my son, I know how I saved him when the narc said, don’t make a scene a ten days overdue.’ Fortunately, my cord baby who died and need resus, came to life.

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  11. HG, is the little man you? “If you want this weirdo to clear off… ”
    You’re not a weirdo HG! You are phenomenal and majestic!
    I loved this story as much as the Goldinarc story. Thank you for entertaining us! So kind of you! 👌

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      1. I take it, HG, that you never find ‘over the top’ comments mushy, and nauseating, but actually you do simply enjoy them all the more and take them in as more fuel?? eeeew, yuck… some are so ready to spread open their hearts, souls, and ‘other things’ widely, and makes one wonder if they’d be faithful to a husband or spouse…(?) Imagine having a wife, HG, who was on a site like this, telling another man how Majestic,Noble,Grand,blah,blah,blah, he is…

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      2. As if there is another man more majestic than Mr. Tudor?!
        I have searched high and low and still haven’t found one. I will let you all know if I finally come another so grand.

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      1. WP, many of us here flatter, glorify, and flirt with HG all the time. It is just for fun, and is a stress reliever too.
        If you read some of the older articles, you may be shocked by others’ comments, referring to their panties, body parts, outright sexual references, etc. I have expressed my dislike for such comments in a public forum. Thank you.

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  12. Rumplstilstskin: A little ogre that is determined to play out his life and make his surroundings a replica of his regressed environment. I try to make a home. Having a place to go is Home. Having someone to love is Family. Having both is a blessing and I ended up with a disturbed mess that copies and moulds his issues all round me.

    Greedy little misdirected missile, loiters and grabs. What else should I have expected and no wonder he hates my art, my being and my dedicated efforts to defend myself and any that he tries to blame for his demise because I was not raised lie a pound puppy! So be it, he is an immovable rock, nothing more, nothing less! I am done, I am done and I am not giving him his treasure so he can waltz off into the sunset and commit treason and treachery and steal another’s being. I have retained myself, through thick and thin, bye bye capital L and capital J you are damaged goods!

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  13. Lol should we expect a book of Narctales?
    These have been an amusing twist to the fairy tales I grew up reading.

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  14. Little Miss Muffet

    Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet
    Eating her curds and whey,
    Along came a NARCspider,
    Who sat down beside her
    And asked, “What’s in the bowl Bitch”?

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      1. My sister has a severe fear of spider, arachnophobia. She can and does pass out if she if to frightened. She can not look at a picture either.
        Do you know why? I use to chase her with granddaddy long legs spiders and put them on her. I was a little demon. Oh, she would scream bloody murder.
        So I ask you, do you see the red hour glass now?

        Can you please write a story with the Beauty and the Beast theme? A bit of Disney. Or the one where the witch has a beautiful shiny apple?

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    1. lol
      I couldnt reply to your other post, sometimes the reply button doesnt appear…but anyway thank you for your advice.
      Indiana is right next to the main city of Kentucky, so it is convenient.
      I asked a young Psych PHD if she had experience with NPD and she got defensive and just refused to answer any questions because of ‘patient confidenciality’.
      It’s a minefield out there 😀

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      1. Hi Brian,

        As a therapist myself, also one that has personal NPD abuse and currently recovering, I would like to say in addition to any referrals that AhOh can provide (great leads and I hope they work out!!!), also look for therapists that have a “trauma-informed” background, domestic violence background, PTSD (nonmilitary) or DBT background in their bios. They are more likely well informed and have worked with those who have had NPD abuse as well. Not many doctors or therapists will admit to personal experience with NPD up front, as we are trained not to reveal a lot of personal stuff up front–it is a professional boundary (though many of us do share personal experience when it is relevant to client after we have an established relationship with them professionally).

        I hope you find your good match, I had to look high and low for myself, and I am in the field, so I know how hard your search is.

        Good luck.

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  15. *Smiling and laughing*
    I am digging this pattern! Story time is most enjoyable 🙂 “er…wife” lol
    And, like MLA said, Tubby, Dickula, and Narcopath all made cameos. I love it!

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