What Goes On Below
“Do that again and you will regret it.”
Those are the words which I will speak in about five minutes, but I am getting ahead of myself.
Welcome to my court. Here I am, sat at my rightful place at the head of the table. Prominent, elevated and overseer of those that have been magnanimously invited to look upon me and bask in their admiration of my glory. I sit, fork in one hand and knife in the other. There is food on my plate but I pay it no regard as I did not prepare it. Instead I am smiling. That rich, bountiful smile of the generous ruler that I am as I allow my subjects to draw close to me and experience a fragment of what it is like to be as brilliant as me. I know I am brilliant because right now the flames of power are high and bright inside of me.
They are strong, they are intense and the power they imbue is washing back and forth over me, causing this rictus grin to become affixed to my face. I could not remove this smile even if I wanted to because it has been plastered there by the power that is coursing through me.
This power is edifying and invigorating, twisting flames which dart and climb inside of me so that I feel as if I am taking off. I have to fight to remain in my seat as I want to leap onto the table, booted feet scattering plates and glasses as I allow this power to overwhelm me and I surge towards a higher place and thus empowered I will speak to those assembled and dazzle them.
My mind races, thoughts fighting with one another. I see the smiling faces, the open mouths denoting laughter, I can hear the delight and amusement that I have caused amongst my dinner guests. I did that. I had all eyes on me, those eyes widening with interest and adoration as I regaled my anecdote to the guests. Each focused pair of eyes, the expressions of concentration, the rapt attention that was flowing my way, the mouths closed, set silent not daring to nor needing to interrupt me, all demonstrated that I was the sole attraction here.
As my own eyes looked from face to face, never truly distinguishing who each person was, I drank in the fuel. It was not the recognition of who those people are but rather the emotions that I could see, hear and sense. Each look of admiration, each closed mouth which told me that the floor was mine and they had no need to interrupt as they wanted to listen, from each of the people sat around the table caused fuel to flow towards me, just as I wanted. Here, in my court, sat in my throne, I am surrounded by my lieutenants and members of my coterie.
These inner circle individuals who are supportive, respectful and loyal to me because they know how fortunate they are to be associated with me. Their laughter, delight and admiration flows around the room, like fuel in a tank and I want it all. How wonderful this power is, how it enables me to shine and dazzle so I receive even more of this precious resource. I nod slowly in recognition, almost able to see the pipelines which lead from each guest to me. I can picture the golden, sparkling fuel as it is pumped towards me, ready to feed those flames of power and then I see it.
Your pipeline is empty. Nothing flows along it. That is when I see that you are not laughing, you are not even smiling at my entertaining recollection. Instead, your stare ahead showing nothing as I delivered the flourish of the conclusion to my tale.
In that instant the flames become doused. They are snuffed out and suddenly the power that they created is starting to ebb and I can feel myself falling, sinking and then that sensation of unease begins to spread, from the centre of my chest and radiating outwards. You are sat there seemingly unmoved by my anecdote but not only that you have chosen to signal to me that it did not entertain you, but it meant nothing to you. I can feel the wound caused by your bored look. It pains me, evidence of the criticism which you have sent my way, unjustified and unwarranted.
Then it happens. I feel the ignition as the fury has a spark set to it. The rage begins to climb inside of me. I can feel its effect trying to twist my face into a snarl but I have to control it. Important members of my façade are here, it would not do to explode as I feel like I must do so and let you know what you have done to me.
I want to pick up this crystal glass and hurl it from my end of the table to your end so it strikes you on the forehead and knocks you from your seat. I want to smash a plate over your head but I must control these manifestations of the rage that is rising inside of me. I know I can. I have done it many times before. Thankfully nobody else has seen your treacherous behaviour and I manage to shift my blackening gaze from you to the lady to my left and she is continuing to smile. Yes, smile for me Helen, smile, yes, good.
“That was hilarious, I love your stories,” she remarks as she cuts at the meat on her plate.
I feel power returning from this fuel she has provided for me. Thank you Helen, thank you, I knew I could rely on you. Yes, and you as well Tom, good, sweet Tom who never fails to laugh at everything I say and is still doing so. I can feel the rage being beaten back by this additional fuel which continues to fuel. I blink twice, caught between the receding fury and the gathering power from the fuel.
I can sense the relief as the power begins to wash over me again as I avoid looking at you and keep drinking in the fuel from my friends, my good, kind and loyal friends. They know what to do. They would not betray me, not like you. I am beginning to wonder why I even bother with you now. It is not as if you contribute much over dinner anyway. I would have thought that you would have realised that it is your role to support me and allow me to shine, but you seem not to want to do that do you? I don’t know why. It is not as if I have not been kind to you, too kind maybe, perhaps you need reminding of why you exist? Yes, a prompt reminder is called for.
I would cut you down right now with a scything comment but that might fracture the façade. After all, nobody saw what you did and I am not so stupid as to do something which damages everybody’s favourable impression of me. No, my acidic tongue, although itching to lash out at you, for the fury is still there, albeit diminishing, will stay still in my mouth at this dinner table. I continue to drink in the fuel, feeling powerful, emboldened and engorged. I can tell Helen is interested in me and why not? Perhaps a promotion is on the cards for her, moving her from inner circle friends to intimate partner and installation as primary source. She would relish the opportunity. I have no doubt about that.
I am forced to put consideration of a personnel change to one side as I see you leave the table and head towards the kitchen. Here is my chance.
“Excuse me ladies and gentlemen,” I smile again as I stand. All eyes swing my way again, expectation dancing in them.
“I have some more wine for you.”
There is a cheer and the fuel flows further for me at this delighted reaction to my largesse. The flames are climbing now as I leave the table and the chatter of the guests behind and enter the kitchen where you are about to pick up the tiered cake that you have created for pudding. You whip around as soon as you sense my presence and your eyes are round as you have anticipated what is coming. Good, you recognise my greatness and it does not create defiance but rather uncertainty and fear. I can see your concern etched across your face.
“Do that again and you will regret it,” I say slowly, my eyes staring straight at yours, my gaze impenetrable and darkening. You shrink back as I loom over you. I can feel the flames rising as the negative fuel pumps from you, your fear and apprehension just what I wanted.
“Do what?” you reply.
“Don’t fucking lie to me,” I hiss and this makes you jump. The flames lick a little higher.
“I don’t know what you mean,” you protest. You are rooted to the spot but leaning away from me, your body language fuelling me as it displays your obvious unease.
“Yes you do, how dare you fucking roll your eyes at me,” I press.
“I didn’t.”
“Are you saying I am making it up?”
“No, no, I just I er, “you start to flounder, caught between wanting to cling to the truth, truth-seeker that you are and cautious of enraging me further.
“You just what? Spit it out,” I command.
“I er,”
I want to smile as I delight in your apprehension and the simple exhibition of my power over you. In an instant I have drawn my negative fuel from you and stunned you into confused silence. Power indeed.
“Well?” I urge. I am enjoying this. This is all good fuel.
“Nothing. I am sorry, I must have been distracted by something else, I have a lot on my mind with work, you know, I will push it to one side and enjoy the evening, I am sorry.”
Your apology strengthens the flames. I hold your gaze a little longer as your eyes flick from my left eye to my right eye as if you expect to find approval or forgiveness in them.
“You better had,” I say softly as I continue to look at you, “otherwise…….”
I extend the forefinger on my left hand and slowly and deliberately push it into the sponge of the cake, my digit driving into the yielding cake. Your eyes stare at the gesture as your mouth tightens in fear. I remove my finger leaving a deep and obvious indentation in the top of the cake as I lick my finger clean. I continue to stare at you and wait.
You nod.
There it is the compliance I sought.
The fuel flows and now I can turn and return to my waiting admirers having ensured you understand who is the master and who is the servant.
No raised voices. No smashed plates. No slamming doors.
Façade maintained, fuel obtained and control asserted.
This is what goes on below.
41 thoughts on “What Goes On Below”
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A lot of challenge fuel is going on here for H.G. 😂 And yaaaay, finally found that cute little anime in my avatar again. At least here´s a middle finger. 😂 Was looking for that pic forever until I finally found it today! 🥳
Leela,
on behalf of those gathered here, thank you for this elegant gesture towards us.
Pfff 🙂
How about stop taking everything personally? The gesture is not towards YOU or towards anybody here, but towards certain people. You didn´t get the message. 😂
I love it!! I have a similar one somewhere the one I have is a woman walking away with her middle finger up!
Ha ha!!
I´ve been here since 2019. Had already this very avatar a couple of years ago. Back then, most people here found it funny and cool. 😂 And it should be indeed taken with a grain of salt. 😉
Leela, believe me or not, when I post an emoticon with a gentle smile (no teeth, no tears, no fanfare) – I am actually smiling physically or mentally. Sometimes with sympathy, sometimes with a bit of warmth, sometimes with understanding, and sometimes to support someone. When I am serious, sad, irritated or completely outraged – you will not see emoticons in my statements. I don’t use false or ambiguous emoticons like Narcissists.
You can say to someone: “Get away from me with that fat ass” to hurt him deeply, but you can say it in such a way, that the other person feel and know, that it is an emphasis and confirmation of bond and love (e.g. my daughter and I often highlight our physical shortcomings, characterological and vices specific to us). It brings us closer, relaxes us, allows us to accept our own complexes and sometimes emphasize, that we accept the other person, even though at this point they have gone a bit too far.
Our brief interaction triggered my thoughts. I was thinking about you and I was thinking about myself (from personal experience). Sometimes a person falls into a spiral of struggle. She/he is prepared for a blow, internally tense and very suspicious. She/he thinks, that defending himself. However, after some time, I notice that this attitude of mine (triggered by various external factors) does not protect me, but causes attacks on me. It’s as if I was provoking people to hit me. It’s very easy to get under my skin then. Make me shake, angry, irritated or frustrated. Quite recently I was in this state for about 2 months (a very very long time for me). I directed several pairs of eyes at myself, unnecessary machinations and evil tongues. Properly stimulated, I had trouble getting out of this state.
It’s gone.
At this moment I climbed back to my rightful place. Peace. Favor. Understanding – although without acceptance. Beautiful view. Snap! Within minutes of interaction, the invading eyes and tongues, teeth nipping me, disappeared. Their owners fawn like teddy bears, stretch their backs and show their soft bellies, basking in my friendly warmth.
Composure. It’s nice. Yes, I know it won’t last forever.
I want to say, that sometimes, by showing a provocative attitude, you bring it on yourself.
There are times, when this needs to be done, you need to bark sharply and show your teeth to a specific person. And there are times, when you should stop so as not to harm yourself.
I leave it here for think about – for you, for me, maybe for someone else.
PS 1 Your black and white miniature suits me much better, than the previous three-color one. You know why, we wrote about it. And there is nothing more to say here.
PS 2 You didn’t convince me, Leela 🙂 I still maintain, that my previous statement was funny 🙂 Although I understand, that you didn’t take it that way. I hope I have explained my intentions.
PS 3 And finally – you may be showing the gesture to someone else or to the whole world (only you know it), but… I am, among others, the recipient of it. It doesn’t bother me and it doesn’t impress me – I’m rather wondering about the basics and the mechanism, that drives you – that’s why we’re here.
Actually… thank you. It made me think and you helped me (without knowing it) get out of my little mess and give up the defensive and provocative attitude, I had adopted towards parts of my environment (unfortunately, it ricochet and also hit two bystanders, who stood on the line and to whom I had already apologized and I explained myself).
PS 4 Sorry for the length. It could be said in one sentence, but I had to dispose here at least some of the swirling thoughts 🙂
Ok, now you got my message.
Dear Joa–
“Get away from me with that fat ass.”
That was directed at me, wasn’t it? I mean, it’s ample, yes, but not overmuch, and it’s firm and fully packed! Tell me, Joa! I need you to approve of my ass!
I don’t know what sort of emoji fits here. But I need answers.
Don´t have time to read all that, but how about this friendly advice: Feel free to ignore or block me. I think we shouldn´t waste any more time. I wish you all the best (honest!)! 👋
Leela, if you find what I write uncomfortable or boring, then of course ignoring me will be a good solution.
However, I don’t see such a need. I have a habit of reading and expressing myself freely 🙂
Allison, I have to disappoint you. I meant someone else, from real life. Sometimes I hear in response, that I suffer from chronic small buttocks syndrome, ha ha ha 🙂
Hi, Joa–
Yes, we call that Diminished Glutes Syndrome (DGS) in Texas. But, ignore those who are not fans of your dainty derriere! I find that with rumps, as with anything, variety is the spice of life. I’m sure it’s delightful to nibble and it would, if I may be so bold, make a charming portrait in contrast to my own.
Do you ever wonder what your creator thinks of you, dear HG?
My father is dead so doesn’t do any thinking. My mother vacillates between begrudging approval and glacial criticism.
1. Has the Matrinarc remarried, or taken any ipps’s since your father passed? (I know, nauseating to think about, my apologies )
2. Did she have any affairs during her marriage to your father?
3. How does she treat her grandchildren? Are they shiny golden children, or drab disappointments?
4. If there is more than one grandchild, are they viewed the same way?
Thanks HG!
Thx HG. “Silly me” should’ve known better BUT you’re answer is reliably priceless either way. Quite amazing how your razorbladelike intelligence obviously isn’t made for working outside of your own little bubble.
Except it does, nice try at a backhanded compliment though.
“A backhanded compliment” from THE MASTER of backstabbing probably has to be called an accolade.
What about Uncle Peter? He is Christian, correct? Doesn’t he advocate both Christianity and Science?
Question: What kind of Empath was this woman? School and cadre?
“Do that again and you will regret it?” – “No, YOU do that again and YOU will regret it!” Meh. Too bad! No middlefinger or two-fingers emoji available. 😂 Oh man, I´m defiant again today! Shouldn´t have read the newspaper! Ok, let´s stay decent and empathic: That poor woman! 😔
You’ve reacted and therefore given us what we want. So easy.
Ggggrrrrrrrr
Yaaay! 😖
The Cure ‘Lullaby’
She should have thrown the cake at you.
But she didn’t did she? Because she knew better.
I don’t know. A custard pie fight can be fun. I miss those, especially in the 1980s. Custard pie fight. Fun fun
HG,
If she had thrown the cake, what would you have done? Xx
Thank you for your time and replies xx
Laughed and then made her clean up her mess.
Thank you for your reply and time, I appreciate your answer and you. Xx
Ooof!
She was sufficiently devalued and mind fucked enough to put up with your tantrums. More importantly you knew that she would.
I bet she regrets not smashing it in your face.
I don’t do tantrums.
I do enjoy knowing how it got under your skin though.
Don’t violate the cake man, I mean how low was that.
Cake violation is entertaining. In fact violation is entertaining full stop.
Yes! Exactly! And with a loud: “F* yourself!!!” and (in GB) two fingers up!
Leela,
You crack me up!
😂
Main narcissist trait (TDC): DEFIANCE! 😇
Well. Goodness gracious.
As I´m not from GB, it´s only the middle finger up for me 😂😉🤪 But guessed that this IPPS must be probably British?
OMG…. I would have dropped the cake and ran 🙈