I did not write this. This was e-mailed to me by an anonymous British fan. He said this is non-fiction and would give insight into the Brexit vote. I did not edit the material out of respect to Hugh Darcy. There will be two more parts to the story that will be published on Clash.
I am using Miss De Sandra to give you the truth behind Brexit, but I was not always an agent of truth.
I was once a spoiled wealthy boy who lived in downtown London. My mum enjoyed travel and my father was a banker who travelled a lot to the States. He’d always talk about the joys and wondrous energy of Wall Street when he returned. It made me sad because I always felt he loved Wall Street more than me.
Like a rich Harry Potter, I was a young sad boy who felt like he had no real family—but I did have love—the love I felt and received from my Nanny.
Nanny Perkins raised me since I was 6 months old. She did everything but breastfeed and make me bangers and mash, but I believed she would have if she could. Nanny Perkins loved me in a way my parents could never show. She was able to teach me the lessons of being proper and high society, but would still tuck me in at night, read me Marry Poppins, and give me a goodnight kiss on my forehead.
My nanny was my world.
Though we were good Anglicans who went to church on Christmas and Easter, we weren’t religious, but I believed Nanny Perkins was an angel. I never ever saw her make a single mistake. Her ability and grace to always be polite and tactful made her appear to be more than human.
My parents, in the comfort of their own home, weren’t always ones to mind their manners. They cursed in front of Nanny Perkins and once my father had too much hard cider and called her ‘a bloody trollop.’ My mother liked to drink as well, and when she had too many martini’s she’d tell Nanny Perkins she didn’t have a man because she was unseemly and looked like a female Prince Charles.
No matter the lack of decency or kindness my parents showed Nanny Perkins, she kept a stiff upper-lip.
Nanny Perkins temperament gave me a feeling of safety for the lonely days of parents being home or away. I knew Nanny Perkins could protect me from my cold-hearted parents.
But I’d later learn that my parents at least had human hearts.
One night, Nanny Perkins was tucking me into bed but her usual pretty blue eyes were turning yellow.
“Nanny Perkins, your eyes, they are different. They are like snake eyes. Are you ok?”
“Silence you little shit,” said a voice that was full of rage, unlike her usual calm tone. “You ate too many sugar plums and are seeing things. No stories for you Hugh. Go right to bed!”
“Ooooh…kaaay,” my voice trembled and I turned away scared and worried about my nanny.
Nanny Perkins was acting as different as her eye color.
She slammed the door and I was left to cry. I had no one now, but even worse, something was very wrong with my Nanny. I started to worry that she was sick; that maybe her eye color change meant she had a disease like the ones I’d hear about on the BBC.
The idea of losing Nanny Perkins filled my seven year-old self with dread. If Nanny Perkins were gone my parents could ship me off to a boarding school or send someone who was mean all the time and not read me bedtime stories.
I had never disobeyed Nanny Perkins, out of fear and out love, but it was love that made me get out of bed and go check on Nanny Perkins.
Our house was so big that it was scary to walk through it alone during nighttime. My room and Nanny Perkins were on the left wing, but my parents were on the right.
I tiptoed over to Nanny Perkins room but she wasn’t there, nor was she in the bathroom. I walked downstairs to the kitchen, it was spotless but she was nowhere in sight. The only place left to search was my parent’s room.
My mum and dad had trained me never to visit them there. We’d socialize only in the dinning and living room, but their room was off limits and little boys did not belong there. Yet, I knew I needed to tell them that Nanny Perkins might be sick no matter what the rules.
I walked toward their closed beige door hearing noises I didn’t recognize. I had no idea of my parents nighttime habits, assumed my father was watching one of those Science Fiction movies on the telly. I didn’t even know they had a telly in the room, but when I opened the door there was no telly in sight.
Nanny Perkins was naked and sitting on top of the face of my mother. I’d never seen a nude woman before but I knew that females didn’t have wolf mouths for vaginas. My mouth dropped almost as wide as Nanny Perkins’ vagina wolf mouth as she devoured mum’s arm.
“Run Hugh, or you’ll end up like your father!” my poor mum begged, her arm getting chewed up like my father’s and swallowed in Nanny Perkins vagina wolf mouth.
Next to her were the skeletal remains of my father who looked he had been through a giant blender.
“Nanny Perkins stop please!” I screamed.
“She is monster. A witch! A wolf! Run my dear boy! Run, before…” my mum begged but lost her strength to yell when Nanny Perkins’s vagina wolf mouth swallowed her right breast.
For the first time, I was going to follow my mother’s orders, but when I went to run, a broom flew from the kitchen and pinned me down.
“You’re not going anywhere, you know the truth now, but I am good to my food and I will give the truth before you are my desert.”
“Nanny Perkins, I don’t understand. I thought you were my sweet nanny… but you’re…”
“A werewolf witch of Stonehenge. Part wolf and part woman!”
“No nanny! No!”
“Yes, yes, my dear boy…” her wolf vagina stopped chewing and swallowing my mother’s body. My poor mum was still breathing but no longer had a left arm or boob.
“I’ll be nice nanny and let you say goodbye to your mother, because you’ve been a good boy.”
I tried to run and lift the broom off me but Nanny Perkins held me down by controlling the broom with her thoughts.
“I can’t. A Wolf Witch must eat a human if they’ve seen their true selves. I’m sorry dear Hugh, you were meant to be a meal for my daughter, but she is still your age and not ready to feed.”
“Please, Nanny Perkins I will never tell.”
“I know you won’t because I will eat you. Oh dear boy, I’ve taught you so many things, I’ve been around so many years but I’ve never told a human our history. Would you like the honor?”
I looked toward my mother and something deep, primal, the connection of blood and birth told me to nod yes to buy some time.
I followed my mother’s eyes and said, “Ye…ees.”
“You are such a good boy, so well-behaved and so brave. You are worthy to know the truth,” she cracked her knuckles and continued.
“Almost all human beings came from monkeys, but in special parts of Britain and in Germany, dear boy, 1% of us came from wolves. We had powers too. Our minds bigger, than your human miniscule monkey brains. Our skin white, our bodies strong, we learned to use the magick of the forest. We were able to control the tree wood, and we made brooms to fly and sweep away rival predators. We’d grow old but never die as eating the monkey men once a year gave us life and greater strength and we did not have to reproduce unless we chose to. The monkey men who lived in the land we know as Europe were subservient to us, and accepted their fates as our food, but those who lived in Africa, Asia, and middle east were stronger, smarter, and fought back and we could not conquer them like we did the white humans.
“Is that why old people in Britain do not like black people and Orientals?” I asked trying to figure out how to escape.
“Such a smart boy, it’s a shame I must eat you. Yes. It all goes back to ancient times, when we were worshipped and praised by the people of Stonehenge, but the Africans and the Asians were better at Magick than we were. Our wolf vaginas and penises could not eat and digest certain foods inside the humans, and the Africans and Asians knew this. They made sure to eat lots of curry, msg, matzo balls, collard greens, hummus, corn, chicken…we hate chicken, the only animals we wants our humans to eat are fish, and the only vegetable is the potato. These other foods are of black Magick and they hurt our bodies and weaken us. We can’t digest watermelon, and the spongy Ethiopian bread. Those of darker skin always outsmarted us, finding ways to protect themselves. Under the British Empire we would finally colonize our human rivals of darker skins, but when Britain was losing power, we of the wolf went to Germany but even there was great defeat. Some of us went to America and enslaved the dark skinned men, but they too were able to break out of our control. Now we must live in the shadows and be nannies and work to have great food. The upper class people like your parents whose blood is pure, nourishes us for years and we never have to feed. But we will return to power, great leaders of the wolf like Thatcher and Reagan were changing the tides, but the white humans are fighting back. The European Union was created to stop us, to let in immigrants to take us down, but the EU are bloody fools. The White Wolf will reign again. To become powerful we must rid the dark meat from the world. For even the taste and energy of them brings us down. We don’t die but only grow old. We must kick them out of England by force and even by democracy.”
“My great great mum was part Arab and part Jewish,” my mum said with what sounded like her last words. “I never told anyone but now maybe it will save my only son, because she loved Hummus.”
Nanny Perkins pink face turned to white. The wolf head of her vagina shook itself left and right, faster and faster and until the flesh of my mother was thrown up back onto to my mum.
“No! No!” Nanny Perkins screamed.
The broom holding me down lost its power and I could lift it off of me, and my mother said, “Kill the Nanny, Hugh. Shove that broom down her bloody vagina wolf witch mouth!”
“No, don’t Hughey! Don’t. Nanny Perkins will save you and make you into a wolf too!” my nanny begged me.
“Do it, my boy, do it for your dear mum!”
My little arms grabbed the magical broom, ready to avenge my dear mum. I thought back on all those times I thought I loved Nanny Perkins, how she was the only one who loved me, but I was so wrong and it made feel so angry.
I took that magic broom and knocked the teeth out of her vagina wolf mouth and then shoved the broom down her human head throat. I stood over her on the bed and said, “I will stop all of you! This broom has power. I will be the Harry Potter who stops the white wolves, Nanny Perkins!”
I didn’t realize my mum had died when I said these words. I was now orphaned but I’d soon learn that killing werewolf witch white supremacists with their Magick brooms gives you their powers.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Check in next month to find more about the The White Supremacist Werewolf Witches of Britain (Part 2)
Hugh Darcy lives in hiding in Britain and this is his first work of non-fiction.