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.

Advertisements

6 Comments

  1. I’ve always enjoyed this one HG, I noticed that you have changed it somewhat. It is very good, and you Sir are a very very talented and gifted writer!

  2. A very clever story, however, Mr. H.G. Tudor the Queen is still married to NarcKing. Her farytale/nightmare is far from over.

  3. Dorrian green just did..ur foreskin has too much
    Rumpledskin .leave it covered..thats free

Vent Your Spleen!

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.