The Deathbed Narcissist : The Middle Lesser

 

 

I really can’t stay (baby, it’s cold outside)
I’ve got to go away (but, I can call you a ride)
This evening has been (I’m so glad you that you dropped in)
So very nice (time spent with you is paradise)

The car radio continued to play the song, the upbeat music floating through the freezing air which suddenly became even colder. A slender man gripped the steering wheel of his car, his head at an awkward angle, pressed across the crushed roof of the vehicle. The levity of the ditty contrasted with the pained expression which he bore. His head was gashed, blood had pooled into the roof space but no longer flowed from the injury.

“Hello,” said a voice. The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. It seemed to get momentarily louder, then fade away, but so very quickly, giving the greeting an unusual, ethereal quality.

The driver groaned.

“Ouch,” remarked the voice.

“Help me,” pleaded the driver from his contorted position in the overturned vehicle. He could not see the owner of the voice since his head was twisted so he was looking towards the passenger window of the crashed car. The owner of the voice was speaking to the driver through the smashed driver´s side window.

“I am not here to help.”

“I’m hurt, are you a paramedic? Thank fuck, God knows how long I have been here.”

“I said, I am not here to help.”

“Well if you can´t, get someone who can, you silly prick, fuck´s sake!” seethed the driver.

“That is not my role and besides, it is too late for that.”

“What are you fucking going on about? Get me some help!” grunted the man.

“Ah, you cannot turn to face me, can you? This does happen, though not always by reason of physical impairment” realised the figure, “one moment.”

The driver stared through the similarly shattered passenger side window, seeing the white of the snow-covered ground. There was no sound of feet crunching across the snow as the owner of the voice moved from one side of the wrecked vehicle to the other.

A hooded figure suddenly appeared at the passenger window. The hood was black, blacker than black, as if the light was being sucked into it and absorbed. Two bright azure pinpoints of light blazed within the recesses of the hood. They shone brightly but the light did not allow the presentation of any other feature of this individual.

“Good, that’s better,” commented the cowled figure.

“Fuck me, who are you?!” declared the driver as his blurred vision returned to focus and he looked on the darkened visitor.

“Hang on, oh you are,” replied the figure noting the dangling man and the way his frozen hands remained locked on the steering wheel. There then came a low rumbling sound, like the advancing charge of ten thousand horses from distance which denoted the figure´s own amusement at the comment as he laughed. There was a sound which was akin to a million candles being snuffed out at once and the music stopped playing from the radio.

“That’s better, I need you to concentrate,” commented the figure, “Hello, Joe Sullen, allow me to introduce myself, I am Death.”

“CAN YOU HELP ME?” shouted the man and then he grimaced.

“No, Death, not deaf. I can hear you perfectly well. I am Death, as in the Grim Reaper (never really liked that one, I am not grim, I am quite chirpy really), the Angel of Death, Thanatos, La Muerte, Pale Death, come on, you know about me, everybody does,” explained Death.

“Well, don’t just rhyme off your fancy names, whoever you are, get me out of this, thank God you’re here, I am fucking freezing, it is so cold,” demanded Joe.

“I’m afraid that isn’t going to happen,” replied Death.

“What do you mean that isn’t going to happen, get me out of here, now!” shouted the man he tried to move, his body shaking but either he was wedged firmly between the squashed chassis of the car or something else was keeping him pinned in place. He closed his eyes and groaned.

“Call for an ambulance, I don’t know where my phone is,” ordered Joe.

“Is it this one?” asked Death as a phone floated up from behind Joe and hovered in the air.

“Yes, that’s it, call for an ambulance, I cannot move my arms,” instructed Joe.

“The battery is dead, and you will be shortly,” explained Death in a matter of fact manner.

“Look, will you fuck off and find someone to get me out of here and take that stupid mask off, it´s getting right on my nerves. Wait, how do you know who I am? Are you the feds?”

“Took long enough for that to sink in didn’t it? Mind you, intellectual sharpness is not your forte, I mean, who drives off in the middle of winter wearing pyjamas and a robe?”

“What?” barked Joe.

“You are wearing pyjamas,” remarked death, “and a robe.”

“And?”

“Hardly a sensible choice. You know what they say, there is no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothes.”

“Thanks grandma, are you going to get me out of this car or are you just going to talk about my clothes, mind you, you’ve room to talk in that outfit, you look a right tool.”

“I’m not the one upside down with a broken neck, frost bitten and in the clutches of hypothermia. Tool,” replied Death.

Joe said nothing and instead glared at Death. It almost looked as if was about to burst into tears but instead he just continued to glare at Death as if willing him to burst into flames, disappear or explode. Seething hatred poured from Joe, silent savage fury. Death was unmoved.

“Might work on your girlfriend but does not on me.”

Joe’s eyes blackened as his fury intensified but he made no noise, the same steady baleful and silent glare.

“Well, seeing as you are, well I am not sure what that it is, but you have at least shut up so I will explain. I am Death and you are in the Never Moment. This means you are in between worlds; you are neither alive nor dead, but you are about to die. You see your girlfriend, Sienna, saw your text exchanges with Crystal on your mobile phone and that left no doubt in her mind as to what you had been up to. Sienna was not best pleased by you telling Crystal that you could not wait to, what was it, oh yes, “Spraff over her huge tits and waiting face”. Straight out of a Hallmark card that one, eh? Sienna´s a kind person but even she has her limits and she told you in no uncertain terms what she thought of you and what you could do and despite you telling her that your phone had been hacked, where did you get that one from a crap Christmas Cracker of Unlikely Explanations, she would not let you off the hook. So intent was her questioning of you and her anger that you did what you usually do, and you flounced. You gave her a mouthful, told her she was shit in bed anyway and stormed out of the house, into your car and race off into a blizzard. And look at you now.”

As Death revealed the full extent of his omniscience, Joe’s expression shifted from baleful glare to miserable pout. The defiance evaporated and instead a petulant look gripped his face.

“Always a fucker getting found out isn’t it? And now twice in less than twenty-four hours, first by Sienna and now by me. Anyway, much as I would enjoy demonstrating my superiority, with you it would be a short-lived contest and not one worth any sport. Oh, sulking will not get you anywhere with me, Joe and I would urge you not to waste these last few moments shooting daggers at me and then getting all prissy, this is your last chance.”

Joe’s gaze had shifted, and he now stared downwards, his chin jutting out in silent defiance.

“Let me make it patently clear Joe Sullen, in a time faster than a New York minute and believe me that is fast, this will all be over. This Never Moment is held by me and when I decide it ends, you end. Kaput. Bang. The. End. You are on the edge of this Never Moment concluding so this is your chance. This is your moment Joe, your opportunity as you, erm, hang upside down on a somewhat unconventional death bed to speak up. Who do you want to say goodbye to? Who do you have good wishes for? Who will you say sorry to? I will pass these words on; of that you have my personal guarantee.”

Joe remained silent, staring into nothingness.

“Anything? Any last words of contrition for the succession of young women you have drawn into your sticky paws who you have then cast aside just as quickly as you have captured them? Are you sorry for the dashed hopes, icy evenings and silent nights you have given them? What about an ounce of remorse for the ones you have slapped, kicked and shoved around, just because they turned over the television channel you were “watching” (you were asleep you lazy slob, I know this). No? Surely you want something to be passed on to the guys at the towing company? Come on, what about a “where were you guys when I needed you most?” The sound of an avalanche broke through the relative silence as Death entertained himself at the expense of the silent Joe.

Joe’s mouth moved.

“Come on, that’s right, you can do it Joe,” encouraged Death, “let’s have some thanks for your mum and dad after everything they have done for you as their only son, they went without so you did not have to and even now they are suffering the consequences of you being the prodigal son. Do you care? Does it trouble you that they are shivering under blankets because they cannot afford to heat their home because you left them in debt, stealing from their bank accounts?”

“It was going to be my money, so what’s the difference?” hissed Joe.

“Except it wasn’t, it was theirs and you took it just so you could shovel that shit up your nose and spunk it on hookers. Make ´em proud of you Joe, make ´em proud!” continued Death.

“Man has needs,” added Joe coldly.

“Oh yes you have needs Joe, ones which mean you have done whatever you have chosen without regard for the impact on anybody else. Remember that stripper, Skye, you got her pregnant.”

“Did I fuck, she was a whore, the town bike,” spat Joe.

“Didn’t stay pregnant for long though did she after what you did.”

“She fell, nothing to do with me,” replied Joe, brushing away the allegation.

“Anything to tell your sister whose heart you have broken every year when you turn up arseholed at her birthday parties?”

“Fuss over nothing, just a few drinks, I can hold my ale.”

“She was seven years old the first time you did it.”

“Bullshit.”

“Joe, listen?” invited Death.

“What?”

“Do you hear that?”

“Is it an ambulance, did you call one, thank fuck for that.”

“No. Listen harder.”

Joe remained silent.

“Don’t hear nothing,” he answered mealy-mouthed.

“Precisely. Nobody is coming. You’ve been missing all night, and nobody has come looking for you. Sienna has not bothered. You were due to meet two of your friends but they have just assumed you were pissed asleep again, so they shrugged and went bowling without you. Your parents are wondering where you are, your mum is exhausted and your father refuses to pander to your furious petulance any longer. Nobody is coming. You are about to die, and nobody is coming.”

“You’re here aren’t you?” said Joe and he gave a twisted leer of some satisfaction.

“No, I am going now, Joe, you have wasted your chance like you wasted your life, not that you see it that way. I am going to watch the moonrise; it is such a beautiful evening. You can sit here, stuck with the cold and listen to the music,” explained Death.

There was a sound like a flame igniting and then the radio started playing, following on from the point at which it had stopped.

“Why won’t you…”

“Too late, Joe, no interrupting the song,” decreed Death and he waved his unseen hand so that Joe was muted, his mouth slowly moving as he continued, his face contorted between fury and pleading.

“Oh, listen it is the duet with Michael Buble, how fitting. Listen Joe, you might realise a few things from this,” added Death, “then again, based on the life you had led, you have not, but others will gain understanding.”

The song continued as Death rose from the passenger side of the car. Joe remained stuck, his silent cries becoming more and more furious.

My mom will start to worry (I’ll call the car and tell him to hurry)
My daddy will be pacing the floor (wait, what are you still livin’ home for?)
So, really, I’d better scurry (your driver, his name is Murray)
But maybe just a half a drink more (oh, we’re both adults, so who’s keepin’ score)
What will my friends think? (I think they should rejoice)
If I have one more drink? (It’s your body and your choice)
Ooh you really know how (your eyes are like starlight now)
To cast a spell (one look at you and then I fell)
I ought to say, “No, no, no, sir” (then you really ought to go, go, go)
At least I’m gonna say that I tried (well, Murray, he just pulled up outside)

I really can’t stay
(I understand, baby)
Baby, it’s cold outside

I simply should go (text me when you get home)
Oh, I’m supposed to say no (mm, I guess that’s respectable)
This welcome has been (I feel lucky that you dropped in)
So nice and warm (but you better go before it storms)
My sister will be suspicious (well, gosh your lips look delicious)
My brother will be there at the door (oh, he loves my music, baby, I’m sure)
My gossipy neighbor’s vicious (I’m a genie, tell me what your wish is)
But maybe just a cigarette more (oh, that’s somethin’ we should probably explore)
I’ve got to get home (oh, baby, I’m well aware)
Say, lend me a coat (oh, keep it girl, I don’t care)
You’ve really been grand (I feel good to touch me hands)
Don’t you see? (I want you to stay, it’s not up to me)
There’s bound to be talk tomorrow (well, they can talk, what do they know)
At least there will be plenty implied (oh, let their mind do this, and-)
Ma’am, I really can’t stay

Baby, just go
It’s cold, baby
It’s cold, baby
But, ooh, I don’t wanna go
It’s cold outside

Death admired the rising moon, the moonlight shimmering in the frozen sky as the snow began to fall once more. The song ended and he swung his scythe over the car and Joe Sullen, the Middle Lesser Narcissist died.

67 thoughts on “The Deathbed Narcissist : The Middle Lesser

  1. Isabel says:

    Thank you HG you are amazing!!! Question please:why a mid range natcissinst will suicide himself? He survived …just for atention? Revenge?He is my brother and I saved him but I think he wanted to upset his girlfriend but this action put him on a risk..narcs dont do that isnt it ??

    1. HG Tudor says:

      It is unusual, but it can happen.

  2. Fieke says:

    Hi HG
    Have been following you on FB and here for short while. Thanks again for your work. Just made this alias, so interacting can be a bit more private for me. I have a question regarding the schools. You have a lot of material on the lesser, midrange and greater, all in three more levels (lower, middle and upper) , but suddenly I stumble upon the A and B type. And an Ultra. What is the A and B and Ultra. And how does the somatic and cerebral fit in. Did you categorise more types? What book (or video’s/ podcasts) do you recommend for a good comprehension of all these different types, levels, awarenesses, cognitive levels, interest levels.
    I am trying to follow what you are writing and what everybody is saying, being new here I want to start at least understanding the basics and vocabulary. ( English is second language but that no hinder).
    Thank you

    1. HG Tudor says:

      Hello Fieke, thank you for doing the blog and commenting.

      1. The A and B. Upper Lesser Type A, Upper Lesser Type B. Middle Mid Range Type A and MMR Type B.
      2. To understand more, see Pipelines, The Narcissist and Covid 19 – The Narc Interviews, The Narcissistic Perspective and Bolt-Ons, The Narcissist and Covid 19 Lockdown, the continuing Deathbed Narcissist Series, Match the Manipulations. (These can be found in the Knowledge Vault which you access through the blog menu). There are also various blog articles which support this work also.
      3. Lower Lesser, Middle Lesser, UL A, UL B, Lower Mid Range, MMR A, MMR B, Upper Mid Range, Lower Greater, Middle Greater and Upper Greater plus and Ultra are the schools. The cards (somatic, victim, elite and cerebral) bolt on to the schools (but not all), so you will have an UL A Somatic or an UMR Cerebral. See the book Sitting Target for more information.
      4. The Ultra is me.
      5. If you want specific questions answered or a general discussion with me to aid your understanding of these concepts please organise an audio consultation with me and I will be pleased to assist you.

      1. Fieke says:

        Thank you. I will start at the beginning. With pipelines.

        1. HG Tudor says:

          Jolly good.

        2. Leigh says:

          Fieke, if I may interject. After Pipelines, you should read Fuel next. All of Mr. Tudor’s books are extremely informative but Fuel will give you an understanding of what the narcissist needs on a daily basis.

          1. NarcAngel says:

            Leigh

            Good advice for Fieke to read Fuel. It always comes back to fuel, so understanding that is paramount to comprehending everything else.

          2. Fieke says:

            Leihg, Thank you also for the advice! :).
            Very welcome. Since I want to read a few good books. It is hard to choose the ones most right for me.

            I have encountered so many types it is a bit dazzling , the realization. And the information, (education) should almost be a public health commodity. 😉

          3. Leigh says:

            Fieke, this information absolutely should be a public health commodity. What Mr. Tudor does here, you can’t find anywhere else. You will find that Mr. Tudor & this blog will be a life saver.

          4. HG Tudor says:

            Thank you Leigh.

          5. Leigh says:

            NA, I found this comment from you back in October. I responded to it yesterday but I guess you didn’t see it. I had to share because it was absolutely hilarious and made my weekend.

            NA’s original comment:

            MRN: I’m not like other men. Not even close.
            NA: That’s quite a claim.
            MRN: You’ll see.

            Much later: (hoover)
            MRN: Come on NA. You know you’ll never feel about someone else the way you feel about me. We’re great together.
            NA: I was great. You once said you were not like other men and that was true. I kept waiting for you to measure up to them but you never could.
            MRN: Bite me NA. (Then silence).

            Yup. Rico Suave to 7th grader that fast. Still makes me laugh.

            This is priceless, NA!

          6. Leigh says:

            You’re very welcome Mr. Tudor.

          7. NarcAngel says:

            Leigh
            Glad it made you laugh

  3. Sweetest Perfection says:

    What a piece of shit the ML is. It brought tears to my eyes to think about his parents, and that poor pregnant woman. Asshole. I had tons of fun reading the death of the UL but this one was cathartic.

  4. mollyb5 says:

    Even to the very end , they don’t see anything they have done as hurtful or distasteful or causing their predicament ..no self reflection or insight . Your writings are uniquely artistic , HG .

    1. HG Tudor says:

      Correct and thank you.

    2. blackcoffee30 says:

      Thank you MB5, you’ve renewed my vigor.

  5. KJ says:

    My first husband was a lesser.
    When our daughter was four months old, he fetched me from work one day very drunk. We fetched our daughter from the day mother and went home. It took me 10 minutes at home to realise that if I stayed there, he was going to kill me. I had left our daughter’s pacifier at the day mother so said I needed to go fetch it. I took my baby and went to the day mother then to a friend. It took him a couple of hours to track me down. We had only one car and I was generally not allowed to drive it. He told me he wanted the car. I told him he could have the car keys if I could have the house keys. I wasn’t allowed keys for the house either. Or a bank account.
    He went ballistic. He grabbed me by my neck – one of his most favourite things to do – and started shaking me around. My friends came running outside to tell him to go and I went back inside. When I heard the gunshots I thought he had shot my friend’s husband – he had tried to shoot the car tyres out. One more shot – right through his head. His last words were to blame me.
    He lived for 5 days. When I went to the hospital the next day, tears rolled from his eyes when I said hello. On the last day, the ICU sister said it wouldn’t be long at about 9 in the morning. I called my father to come sit with me – I didn’t want to be alone when he died. At 2 in the afternoon the sister said that he was fighting very hard – he didn’t want to die. At 3, my father asked if I had said goodbye to him. I hadn’t. For 5 days I had begged him not to leave me.
    At 3 I told him it was ok to go. I told him he could leave – we would be alright. He was dead by 3.15.

    1. lickemtomorrow says:

      Oh, KJ, that is a heart rending story and I’m glad you felt able to share it with us.

      I don’t know if you have PTSD after that experience, but it would certainly warrant it.

      And I’m very sorry you had to go through that.

      There are many stories told of people who are dying needing permission to go. Or they die when no one is there, say if the family has been sent home or even out of the room for some respite, as the dying person then feels free to leave. In many instances they seem to try to hold on for their loved ones.

      I don’t know how you interpret your experience, but I don’t imagine you could have done more, and you needed to keep yourself and your daughter safe. I hope you are doing better after moving on.

    2. FYC says:

      KJ, I had not read your comment until after I read LET’s response by way of email notification. I agree with everything she wrote and I hope you know your intuitive instinct to leave that day no doubt saved your life and your daughter’s. It sounds like, at least in his altered state, that he was bent on death or he would not have shot himself. I’m so grateful that you and your daughter survived and are free of his horrific abuse. You deserve peace and joy in your lives and I hope you have found that since. Wishing you the very best as you go forward.

    3. NarcAngel says:

      KJ
      I’m sorry that was your experience but it was best for everyone. Especially your daughter. It could have been you laying there eventually by his hand and you would have been leaving your daughter to that fate. His tears were only for himself. I’m not trying to be mean – HG will confirm that (actually he has been confirming that all along in this deathbed series) . You played no part in his leaving – he just died. Narcissists don’t need permission to do anything. They die just like they live -without a thought for anyone but themselves. Glad you and your daughter escaped that life of slavery and violence.

      1. HG Tudor says:

        Well stated.

    4. JB says:

      KJ, how awful. I am truly sorry you had to go through all of that. I am so glad you escaped though, and really hope that you can now start to find some peace xx

    5. Chihuahuamum says:

      Kj…im so sorry you had to see and go thru all that very traumatic. I hope youre doing ok now ❤

  6. December Infinity says:

    I enjoyed reading this one as well. I hope you write more of these HG.

  7. Eternity says:

    Another great example of the Middle Lesser. Clearly no cogntive function whatsoever.
    No Emotional Empathy either .
    What a great beginning and an awesome ending to the story.

  8. lickemtomorrow says:

    “where did you get that one from a crap Christmas Cracker of Unlikely Explanations”

    Haha, HG 😛 Love it.

    The unoriginal middle lesser narcissist.

    On the other hand, combining a song with the story speaks to the very originality of YOU 🙂

  9. Bubbles 🍾 says:

    Dear Mr Tudor,
    You truly are a gift
    That was a fabulous read
    Now I’m going to think of you and your story when this song comes on at Christmas 🎄
    Not sure if that’s a good or bad thing 🤣
    ‘Bloody’ terrific
    Luv Bubbles xx 😘

  10. Leigh says:

    Still no insight, even on their deathbed. This is why when you know, you go. Otherwise you’re doomed to a life of misery. Thank you for these articles, Mr. Tudor.

    1. HG Tudor says:

      You’re welcome.

      1. Violetta says:

        HG:

        If you’re in the UK, you’re on late today. Thank you. You were much missed last month, as I’m sure you know.

        1. HG Tudor says:

          I’m not in the UK, it’s later than you realise! You’re welcome.

          1. blackcoffee30 says:

            Perhaps even the Witching Hour, which I quiet like.

  11. FYC says:

    HG, I am thoroughly enjoying this new series! So original, witty and creative, all while being very educational. Incomparable! Something about your Reaper reminds me of the Higher Random and Higher Purpose in Stephen King’s “Insomnia.” Yet your Reaper is more complex and delightfully enjoyable, because he is more multi-dimensional, witty, and actually serves both the “higher random” and “higher purpose.” Random to the lessers, and Purpose for the other poor souls in the lesser’s miserable life. These posts could be easily pulled together to form a fabulous book.

    I am curious. In those moments when you have been required to extinguish a life, did you ever have the time or the inclination to ask for last words? Did you receive any?

    1. HG Tudor says:

      Thank you FYC.

      As to your question, you will have to wait to find out.

      1. FYC says:

        HG, Preferably you mean I’ll have to wait to find out what happened to others, I do not wish to be added to your list of those who will find out! I sincerely hope to never offend you in any way.

        I have already had three opportunities to face the prospect of death. The youngest, I was an infant and do not recall anything. The other two were as an adult. In those moments, I felt surprise/shock at first, then deep love and gratitude for every blessing and also sadness because I did not want to go yet. I do have regrets of things I would do differently. One regret is not knowing sooner what I have learned from you. To have had this knowledge sooner would have changed so many things. Other regrets usually come from my blind spot (fourth quadrant). I strive to eliminate those. For those I have ever offended in any way, I sincerely apologize and hope they forgive my foolish short-sightedness. In general, I wish everyone happiness, health, strength, wisdom, love and joy.

        1. HG Tudor says:

          Of course not FYC you like all my honest, decent readers will only ever benefit from me, it means you will have to wait to find out.

          1. FYC says:

            We all do benefit from you, HG, so very much, and I will wait patiently.

        2. lickemtomorrow says:

          Such a heartfelt post, FYC, and thank you for sharing your experiences. Many of us, I’m sure, have no idea what that would be like and your insight helps to also give us a little glimpse. It’s hard not to live with regrets at times, but the sense of love and gratitude you expressed seemed to wash those thoughts away. And you are such a humble and loving empath. Any short-sightedness on your part belongs to us all as human beings. Those are wonderful wishes and thank you for sharing them xox

          1. FYC says:

            LET, Your comment really touched my heart. You are most kind. Thank you so much. xo

          2. lickemtomorrow says:

            You are welcome, FYC x

            I see such positivity coming from your posts always and a deep sincerity.

            Plus you want everyone to join in and gain the benefits of being here 🙂

  12. Renarde says:

    The thing I am personally taking away are these two lines:

    “Spraff over her huge tits and waiting face”. Straight out of a Hallmark card that one, eh?”

    And

    “Always a Fucker when you get caught out”

    Oh dear, the Lee’s. The wrecking balls of life. I’m actually quite suprised he could rustle up a AST. Wonder where he was going when he met with Death? A prostitute?

    1. HG Tudor says:

      Middle Lesser will make use of silent treatments, usually storming off demonstrating a combination of Lesser heated fury and volatility, with an injection of Mid-Range cold fury, hence Middle Lesser.

      1. Renarde says:

        Hg

        It’s fascinating. How the schools interwieve with each other wrt the levels.

        Just by that comment alone, it’s already bringing clarity into focus.

        Thank you.

      2. mollyb5 says:

        HG …but he also wants some attention , Fuel when he storms off ? Maybe a flirt with a girl at the gas station ?

        1. HG Tudor says:

          He was fuelled by Sienna´s anger etc so fuel was not the issue. It was the threat to his control that had to be dealt with by his storming off (see The Three Interactions With the Narcissists and The Three Assertions of Control). He would of course have needed fuel soon enough and that might have included flirting with the girl at the gas station, going to see a friend, perhaps heading to see a prostitute or interaction with someone else. In that instant however fuel levels were not so low as to need immediate fuel, but rather the threat to control caused by Sienna´s Challenge Fuel. The expanded Death Bed Narcissist work will provide you all with analytical breakdown to assist your understanding further.

    2. JB says:

      Yes these two bits really made me laugh! Think it would actually be preferable (to me) if all narcissists were Lees, then I would never be drawn to them! 😂

      1. Kim e says:

        HG.
        JB brings up something that made me wonder. I know n’s are drawn to certain types of E’s depending on the N’s being lessor middle or greater
        Is the also true of for the sake of the discussion unweoponized E’s? Is there a type of n we would be more drawn to?
        Thank you

        1. HG Tudor says:

          Yes.

  13. BonnieLou says:

    These sir…are brilliant!

    1. HG Tudor says:

      I entirely agree.

  14. Asp Emp says:

    ““CAN YOU HELP ME?” shouted the man and then he grimaced. “No, Death, not deaf. I can hear you perfectly well.” – I’m crying. With laughter. LOLOL.

    I really enjoyed the Lower Lesser’s version. This one was even funnier. I had to pause reading more often on this article, to laugh.

    At the same time, it was a great insight on how to expect a Middle Lesser to respond / act while at death’s door. While losing someone is not an easy process to go through, I’d lost quite a number of people in my life-time and experienced bereavement plenty.

    Thanks for the laughs on this one, HG. Also thanks for the insight. A bit more of Death’s ‘character’ was revealed in this article, rather intriguing, I must say, however, I’ll say no more at this point 🙂

    1. WokeAF says:

      The Superiority.
      Death’s a narc

      1. MB says:

        Death would have to be a Narc. It’s no job for an Empath!

        I can’t wait for the scene when Death delivers a message to a loving one from the dying.

        I’m really enjoying this creative perspective for learning about the schools, HG.

        1. HG Tudor says:

          That’s what it’s all about, Entertaining Education.

  15. FoolMe1Time says:

    Loving these HG!

    1. HG Tudor says:

      Thank you FM1T

  16. Miss_AGL says:

    It’s incredible how an article can evoke so many feelings and emotions… But honestly, this is NOT “just an article”! This is a fucking masterpiece HG!! I don’t think I can adequately describe how unbelievably cathartic it was for me to read this (Middle-Lesser ex…) Thank you Sir, for writing such a brilliant piece of writing that I didn’t know how much I needed it until I read it! Thank you! *Εfharisto!

    1. HG Tudor says:

      You’re welcome and this is access to brilliant writing, unrivalled insight and at no charge.

      1. Miss_AGL says:

        Oh, I completely agree with you Sir, and Your generosity is greatly appreciated!!

        1. HG Tudor says:

          I recognise that, thank you. You can set straight the occasional entitled whiner that wanders in here.

          1. Miss_AGL says:

            Haha! With pleasure Sir!!!

  17. Christopher Jackson says:

    Damn what another great peice hg you know im not going to look at the song the same anymore lol…can’t wait to hear the greater one once again great peice

    1. HG Tudor says:

      Thank you CJ.

  18. These are great! I cannot wait for the mids! I suspect they may be more fearful.

    1. blackcoffee30 says:

      Cowards, the lot.

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