Three narcissists walked into a bar. Their names were me, myself and I.
The bartender was serving a concoction of truth serum.
The bartender served me first.
And myself last.
I was served somewhere in between.
I saw myself fall to the ground and die instantly and I was thankful that it wasn’t me.
Then suddenly I died. Leaving me and the bartender.
The bartender closed shop and took me home.
And nobody ever saw me again.
Moral of the story Narcissists can’t handle the truth.