There are times when the hatred, the vitriol and the malice can no longer be contained. They must be unleashed. Most often, this occurs as a consequence of the ignition of fury which arises as a response to the wounding which happens because we have been criticised. The ignited fury may, with those of us with greater control thresholds, be kept under control, especially if we are mindful of the impact it may have upon the facade. Sometimes, we cannot exert that control and heated or cold fury erupts from us, seeking to provoke a reaction from you and others which will draw fuel and in turn address the wound so the fury in time abates.

Then there are the times when there is a need to spread hurt, cause pain, to shock and to lash out.

It is not an uncontrolled and haphazard spewing forth of hatred, a dervish that lashes out at all around him or her, drawing looks of horror, hurt and annoyance. Such a frenzied response is one associated with the loss of control which occurs through the ignition of fury. This is a calculated exercise in drawing negative fuel for the purposes of letting this awful and treacherous world and its traitorous minions know that there is a blazing hatred at our core, a permanent state of malicious and venomous antipathy for everybody around us. We have no interest in donning a mask of charm or magnetism. There is no desire to present a facade on such occasions. Our seething, savage malcontent must emerge and be branded on all those who are unfortunate enough to cross our path.

It may start at any point in the day. It may be that on wakening we feel it there, the corrosive taint of malice which has to be allowed to surface. We may, in less experienced times, have thought that the provision of positive fuel would cause this sensation to lessen and to vanish, but it does not. For some reason, some deep and dark reason, only negative fuel will suffice. I have experienced this on several occasions. I now recognise it. It is the desire to destroy, to hurt, to maim and I know that until such time as I have drunk deep of the negative fuel that flows from such actions, I will not be able to stop and cause this sensation to vanish. I can feel it inside of me – it is not fury, but rather a visceral and powerful hatred for everything and everyone. A bilious sensation sat in my core and I must obey it. It is allied to the ever present hunger for fuel, but only negative will do. It is as if some ancient wrong can only ever be reconciled through the application of repeated wrongs, as if that historic crime has to be repeated and replicated in the here and now and in so doing, by giving it such an exposure and airing, release is achieved.

Something wicked from way back when must be allowed to manifest now.

And so the day is one of vicious behaviours. The morning greeting from the neighbour is met with an instruction to him to “get fucked” or to invite him to keep an eye on that “whore of his wife and her afternoon visitors”. His shocked response is seen from peripheral vision, the first drops of negative fuel trickling my way as I march to my vehicle  and enter it. The cocooning effect of the magnificent car does nothing to remove the malice. On the drive to the office, those talking on the radio are routinely lambasted for the idiocy – they cannot hear me but it does not matter – they must still be told. The window is lowered and a pair of young women walking along the road are shouted at, the single insult of “sluts” trailing after me as I drive past. The cyclist is pilloried for being a “latex clad wanker”, the person waiting at the zebra crossing jumps back as I fail to yield to them and give them the finger as I sail by.

Sat in idling traffic I endeavour to catch the eye of the driver behind or in front and goad them with hand gestures.

“Come on, come on, get out,” I hiss to myself, hoping they will emerge from their vehicle and challenge me. Just do it, give me the provocation I am looking for and I can unleash yet more of this malice which is surging through me. Today they perhaps see what glints in my darkened eyes and do no more than retaliate with their own gestures before the traffic moves on and we become separated.

The barista in the cafe asks for my order and my name in that ridiculous manner of theirs. All I want is tea, not some imported affectation of a grand ho cho or some ridiculous coffee which is whipped, flavoured, syrup and sprinkled. I give the name “Farquhar” and say it in a tone which tells him that if he dares, if he fucking dares to ask me how to spell that name I will seize several of these over-priced muffins in the display and force them into his spluttering mouth one by one. He does not ask and his cake choking is avoided.

Of course when the beverage arrives, I see “Farkwar” daubed in the hand-writing of a five year old on the side. I lift the cup and speak,

“Excuse me,” I say coolly. The barista turns and looks at me. Already hesitation is gripping him.

“Yes?” he asks.

“Are you some kind of epsilon semi-moron.” I say. Although it should be a question, it sounds more like a statement as I point at the scrawl on the cup. He says nothing, unsure of what to say and what I will do.

“Is that wrong? I’m sorry,” he offers.

I hold his gaze, my dark glare boring into him as I contemplate setting alight his extensive beard. He looks away at the floor within a couple of seconds. I know everybody else in this store is looking at me. Good.

I shake my head.

“You should have tried harder at school you fucking quarter wit,” I announce and turn, shoving past those behind me. There are no protests.

And so it goes. The receptionist is told she looks slovenly when I enter the office. The office junior is snarled at to get out of the way. I find fault with everything that those working for me do. I draw tears from one annihilated associate as I subject him to a five minute tirade as to the inadequacies of his report, banishing him from my room as if exiling him from my kingdom. He is the third person who has entered my office and been subjected to my malice and it is not even mid-morning.

My secretary pokes her head around the door.

“Is everything okay?” she asks.

I pause and look up from my computer and apply the charm of the smile.

“Absolutely great. Could not be better. First class. Tip top. Superb.” I confirm as I reel off a range of synonyms for all being well. Most will be branded with my malice today but not her. She is a loyal Lieutenant and this time she is exempt, besides, what better way to really mess with the heads of those beneath me is to have my secretary say,

“He was fine with me,” if they come crawling back trying to ascertain what is wrong.

E-mails receive curt replies. Those who telephone are subjected to a savage dissection of their proposal which leaves them speechless. Instructions are barked, injunctions issued and idiots torn apart. The malice remains, powering the nasty and unpleasant behaviours but never surging out of control. It is as if this malice recognises that it does some good to put some stick about, to let people know that they have to earn my grace and favour, that they ought to be on their toes, alert and mindful that their elevated position can be removed in an instant. Few ever challenge, most retreat horrified, alarmed and hurt. Those that do fight back but they are then subjected to fiercer malice as they are intimidated until they break away, muttering and still hurling insults. It matters not, it is all negative fuel.

In another place this malice would have manifested through the application of physical violence. The punches and kicks traded with those stroppy waxwork faces as part of the understanding that this is what happens in such an arena. In another place again, this malice would surface through the cruelty and humiliation of the one supposedly closest to me in the most intimate of settings. In yet another place, this malice would appear as the event wrecking ball, leaving nothing standing.

But today it happens in this place and this means that verbal abuse, insults, savage tongue, baleful glare and acidic responses are the appropriate ways in which the malice makes itself felt and draws of the negative fuel.

Some who are the recipients are strangers and our paths will not cross again. Others may regard me warily until the usual charm appears and they are put at ease. Most know better than to make it appear on another day through the ignition of fury. Occasionally there are those who will take it further. A demand for an apology, a raised grievance through formal channels and even a complaint to the authorities. In those rare instances the matter is dealt with through the restoration of persuasion and magnetism. A reward is offered to avoid the issue, charm negates the challenge or even a supposedly heart-felt apology is provided. They are, after all, just words and of course the relief, pleasure and gratitude espoused by the other person is all positive fuel, welcomed on the alternative occasion. There is not one who has been on the receiving end of the malice who cannot be brought back into line once again. All people have a price.

When this malice appears in this form, the entrenched and ancient right exercising its need to be aired, after a day of caustic comments, vicious volleys and sarcastic smiles, with the negative fuel swallowed up, I return and there is a beneficiary of all this vitriol. Having allowed the malice to be known, to let it stretch its legs and flex its muscles, it retreats, for now and as I arrive at your house or return to ours, you receive the positive side of this contrast for once. Even if you, as primary source, are being devalued, you will be given a sudden respite and the resurrection of the golden period. Your surprise and delight at its return brings forth the positive fuel in significant quantities and it washes over me, replacing the now receded malice. Your positive fuel is now required and thus the devaluation is halted as you are seen as a sanctuary of delight compared to those who have annoyed, irritated and crossed me during the day. It may not last long, but for today at least, the malice was given vent and now you benefit from its sustained application.

Even when I am malicious, I am good.

41 thoughts on “Malice

  1. lickemtomorrow says:

    I’m finally going to say it … this reminds me of a bad PMS day (pre-menstrual).

    PMS is like malice unleashed. Ask any man who’s ever had to deal with it 😛

    1. Asp Emp says:

      LET, that was funny! I’ve been free of those for over 10 years, so I have no excuse 😉

      1. lickemtomorrow says:

        No excuses for me either, AspEmp, but I remember those days well 😛 I could turn on a dime and felt I had to unleash. It was tied very specifically to hormonal effects, but they could have a big impact. Another one of those scenarios where when you read about it you finally understand. After wondering why you turn into a witch at certain times of the month. It would take very little to provoke me, let’s put it that way!

        1. Asp Emp says:

          LET, turning into a ‘witch’, I can relate to….. I continued to be a ‘bitch’ after PMTs stopped for me LOL.

        2. Bubbles says:

          Dearest lickemtomorrow,
          Same goes with menopause and giving birth …. Drs Jeckyll n Hyde 🤣
          Or how about just being a ‘Karen’ 🤣
          Luv Bubbles xx 😘

          1. lickemtomorrow says:

            Haha, Bubbles 😛 The hormones can bring out the Jeckyll n Hyde in all of us at different times, but I think the ‘Karens’ make it their life’s work to make other people’s lives miserable. Nothing to do with hormones, and a whole lot more to do with narcissism if HG is right. For some reason I find HGs take on Malice hilarious, whereas the Karen’s of this world just make me want to roll my eyes, or worse! Not that I’d want to be in the firing line when it comes to HGs malice having said that :O xox

          2. Bubbles says:

            Dearest lickemtomorrow,
            Most Karen’s average age is 56 ……..hormonal !
            Ta daaaaaa!!!!
            Luv Bubbles xx 😘

          3. lickemtomorrow says:

            Haha, Bubbles, I think we’re going to have to separate the hormonal Karen’s out from the narcissistic ones 😛 Imagine a hormonal narcissistic Karen??!! Doesn’t bear thinking about! xox

        3. Bubbles says:

          Dearest lickemtomorrow,
          Haha, the thought is terrifying !
          However, having been the thru the big M …. the short list of some 34 symptoms includes anxiety, irritability, depression n panic disorder …..just to name a few!
          It makes one’s period a breeze in comparison haha
          I reckon that’s when women kill their husbands 😂
          Luv Bubbles xx 😘

          1. lickemtomorrow says:

            Haha, Bubbles, time to put the alert out on menopausal women 😉 And all the while I thought it was PMS that made us dangerous!

            Husbands should probably watch their backs either way xox

            I can only imagine what a guaranteed fuel fest women’s hormones help create for the narcissist. Due your period? Time for some devaluation. Just had a baby? Mindfuck coming right up. Becoming menopausal? Perfect time for some triangulation. LOL.

            Not sure many narcs would be that calculating, but it certainly feels that way at times. The actual fact is they just don’t care, but hormones do help create some openings for their machinations.

            Now, where’s that knife? 😛

          2. Bubbles says:

            Dearest lickemtomorrow,
            I sure Mr Tudor would ‘feast’ on it 👹
            Luv Bubbles xx 😘

          3. lickemtomorrow says:

            Hmmm, Bubbles … that article on “Scenting Blood” appeared not long after 😛

          4. A Victor says:

            I had the opposite experience, horrible PMS for 25 years and then absolute relief. I’ve only had a handful of hotflashes and I actually like them since I’m always cold. It is like I was given a second lease on life. The PMS was a nightmare and my ex did nothing to help but yes, he soaked up a lot of fuel during those days. He was home more during that time each month than he was during the rest of the month combined. I would wonder why he wouldn’t do anything to help, couldn’t he see I needed it? Being here I have come to understand what was going on. Asshole.

          5. lickemtomorrow says:

            OMG, AV, your ex was home more during that time of the month??!! He was not only an asshole, he sounds like a calculating asshole! He could see you needed extra support and obviously thoroughly enjoyed not providing it while watching you squirm. My mother is like this. My ex-husband was like this. My last narc was like this, too.

            I’m so happy to hear your bouts of PMS have finally been relieved, and it can be smooth sailing into the next stage in life. I only ever heard horror stories about it, so prepared myself for the worst and ended up just looking forward to unprotected sex 😛 LOL. Let me make that monogamous, unprotected sex 😉 Which has now been updated to monogamous, unprotected sex with a non-narcissist. Oh, and he’s going to have to marry me first! Setting the bar as high as it can possibly go now …

          6. A Victor says:

            Yes, he had a lot of ‘calculated’ behaviors. TTU does also. They’re truly horrible people.

            I agree on all counts regarding the sex!

          7. A Victor says:

            LET, I no sooner sent that last comment than it struck me that maybe that played a part in why he why he disengaged!! That was 13 years ago, I was fairly young, and he was gone 2 years later! I began to think much more clearly once the PMS stopped. Wow, thank you for this, interesting food for thought.

          8. lickemtomorrow says:

            No narcissist is going to want a clear thinking empath, AV. The dangers of being exposed are too numerous. Sounds like he ran out on you before that could happen. And that’s another interesting take on when a narcissist might choose to leave or disengage. They can no longer keep you in the fog which allows for their machinations to continue. No.1 on HGs list of disengagement factors – “you have wised up”.

          9. A Victor says:

            That’s right! Thank you for reminding me of that!

      2. Another Cat says:

        Asp Emp
        You sound so young, plus a great sense of humour, I thought you were in your 30s. So there we go.

        1. Asp Emp says:

          Another Cat, ah, I am young at heart, older than 30s though (new & improved but not shiny)….. thanks RE: humour, I think it’s called idiosyncratic (laughing)…..

          1. Another Cat says:

            I tried for long to think of something entertaining to send you back Asp Emp. But alas.
            I guess mine is more Out of Sync!

          2. Asp Emp says:

            AC, idiosyncrasy is something I was made to feel that I was really “not normal” (quoting mother and Lesser here – fkg shites). I now realise that idiosyncrasy is one of my best characteristics that I possess.

            RE: yours, out of sync? It’ll come back, on a good day 🙂

        2. JB says:

          AC, it’s funny, isn’t it, how we build up a mental picture of each other on here, with people’s ages, etc. And of HG, as well. I bet if we all met in the flesh we’d be like, no, you don’t look like/talk like that, etc! 😂

          1. Asp Emp says:

            JB, …… “in the flesh” ? Did you mean to say “in person” ? LOL.

          2. A Victor says:

            I think about this all the time, it’s fun but I bet we would be surprised!

          3. JB says:

            Asp Emp, nope! Definitely flesh! 😂😂

          4. JB says:

            AV, oh gosh, yes! I think we certainly would! Therein lies the issue with online relationships too, I guess. All goes swimmingly whilst you are both living up to each other’s expectations of each other and how you imagine them to be, then you meet and it all goes a bit Pete Tong! 😂

          5. A Victor says:

            Haha, “a bit Pete Tong”? I’ve not heard that one! I can discern what it means though. I met a man online, before the summer narc last summer, and I told him we had to do a Zoom call at the end of the first week. Oh good grief. I was really glad we got that over with early! And that took care of that relationship too!! We can come across so differently!

          6. Bubbles says:

            Dearest JB,
            I wonder if Mr Tudor could pick us ?
            Have all his little minions err I mean Tudorites lined up in an row … roll call!!
            Starting with the A’s 😂
            Luv Bubbles xx 😘

          7. JB says:

            Bubbles, I bet HG would do quite well at it! 😂 xx

          8. JB says:

            AV, ah sorry, didn’t think! Pete Tong = wrong!

            Zoom call is a great way to sort that out early doors, definitely. I just hate Facetime, Zoom, etc, so rarely do it! Xx

          9. A Victor says:

            I see, that is funny! I did guess right!

            I am used to Zoom since Covid. I didn’t even think of what Lisk said about the risks prior to this week though. That is a tiny bit concerning to me.

            The summer narc would not Zoom, nor even give me a photo. He blamed it on his liver illness, that he looked terrible. I wil would never do that again, huge red flag that I didn’t understand at the time.

          10. JB says:

            AV, yes I read what Lisk said, and it blew my mind. So sad that we have to think like this, isn’t it!

    2. A Victor says:

      Hahaha, this made me laugh! Thank you LET!

      1. lickemtomorrow says:

        Glad I could make you smile, AV 🙂

        I had that thought the first time I read this article and have held back sharing it until now! It just resonated with me so much and I know I have a dark side … that time of the month usually helped to bring it out. I blame the hormones. That’s the narc side 😉

        1. A Victor says:

          Haha, me too! The hormones and the narc brought out the dark side!

    3. A Victor says:

      Really, he got 28 days of being horrible, I was entitled to to 2 or 3. Ha ha.

  2. Jasmin says:

    “Just do it, give me the provocation I am looking for and I can unleash yet more of this malice which is surging through me.”
    Reminds me of when I “broke up” with my cousin. I had a some stuff that were mine at her house that I had to collect. I knew before getting there she would just want me to say anything that would provoke her so that she could lash out at me. I decided to not say anything more when the few words necessary and all in polite manner. I didn’t give her any reason to lash out and I saw how her rage was bubbling on the inside. She was so frustrated. I admit I enjoyed it when I walked from there..

    1. Asp Emp says:

      Jasmin, I liked “She was so frustrated. I admit I enjoyed it when I walked from there”, it gave me a giggle.

  3. Asp Emp says:

    Reading this article reminded me of such occasions where similar words were said “he was fine with me” about someone being ‘off’ with other people.

    Now, I have to say that I actually got to a point like that – where I was in that emotional and mental ‘fog’ of confusion and the year of difficulties and losing my dog. People would ask if I was ok – how the fk can I actually answer that? Without resorting to ‘Exposure Before Devaluation’ and not being given the ‘support’ because basically their hands were ‘tied’ (threats about their jobs).

    I am recalling how unhappy I was, how far in the depths of despair and how traumatising it all was. Yet, my ET remains low.

    I do know that I was not the only individual at work who felt like I did. The pressure and extra work while the narcissists did Sweet Fk All, swanned around ‘Oh, look how great I am, how fab I look, how a brilliant job I am doing’ and still took the credit.

    “Even when I am malicious, I am good”……. hmm, I bet…….

  4. A Victor says:

    How long can this go on? If it’s more than a day it’s it likely something else? Would some narcissists use cold fury to vent this or is it always verbal and/or physical?

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