HERNANDEZ SANTOS 24 Hours to Supernova First published by Hernandez Santos Publications 2020 Copyright © 2020 by Hernandez Santos All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission. First edition Proofreading by Mother Superior This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy. Find out more at reedsy.com Contents Preface iv 1. Glasgow, Scotland 1 2. Hindley, England 6 3. The Beast of Clarkston 13 4. Nightmare Conversation 18 5. The Faggot File 27 6. Willy the Conqueror 40 7. Recess in Chambers 48 8. Lady FatCow’s Panties 56 9. Pacific Jewel Cruise 63 10. Machine Gun Arse 69 11. Real-Man Bonding 75 12. Breaking and Entry 80 13. A Girl’s Best Friend 85 14. Cuban Cigars 91 15. MI6 Gets Involved 96 16. Corroborating Details 99 17. Final Bullet Points 104 18. Lethal Cocktails 109 19. Café by the River 114 20. Supernova 118 Preface WARNING – WARNING – WARNING (Please read carefully before proceeding to read this book) 24 Hours to Supernova (Fictional Raw Adult Comedy Suspense Thriller) Offensive Material Disclaimer The content of this publication contains very objectionable material, which the reader may find upsetting, insulting, disturbing, obnoxious, obscene, and offensive. Unsuitable Material Disclaimer The content of this publication is not suitable for children of any age, or the do goody goody politically correct nanny woke snowflake brigade. iv No Responsibility Disclaimer The author will not be held responsible for damages of any kind, including health issues and gender identity confusion that the reader may suffer from as a result of reading the content of this publication. Full Copyright Disclaimer This book is protected according to the copyright laws of all countries throughout the world. Any unauthorised distribution or copying of this book or any part thereof may result in both civil liability and/or criminal prosecution. The story, characters, and incidents portrayed in this book are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased is intended or should be inferred, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental. Certain long-standing institutions, agencies, and public offices are mentioned, but the characters are wholly products of the author’s imagination. Space and time have been rearranged to suit the convenience of the story. All of the opinions expressed in this book are those of the novel’s characters, and should not be confused with the author’s opinions or beliefs. No animals were harmed in the production and publication of this book. v 1 Glasgow, Scotland The following events take place between 1pm and 2pm. 1pm Glasgow, Scotland: Dr Nightmare Faggot was lying across his plush lounge sofa reading a special edition of the Gideon’s Bible that he had stolen recently while away up north on a skiing trip in the Scottish Highlands. Dr Nightmare Faggot was wearing his favourite twill-woven worsted-wool kilt, in bright striking colours of the Andrews Clan tartan from the House of McBunnyBrook. Faggot was holding the half-opened Bible clasped firmly in his right hand, with his left forearm slipped under the kilt from the waist down, tugging himself off with increasing rapid strokes. Nightmare’s eyelids were flickering like a butterfly, his ankles crossed over each other, his toes twitching and curling, clearly ready to enjoy his imminent special wet-moment. Nightmare Faggot who rarely wore underpants under his kilt, was breathing heavily when he suddenly lurched upwards, quickly pulled his hand out from under his kilt, slammed the 1 24 HOURS TO SUPERNOVA Bible shut and stuffed it under one of the sofa cushions, then sat up pretending he was watching the tennis on television while sipping a whiskey on the rocks. His favourite, three cubes of ice with a double shot of Glenfiddich, no water. Dr Nightmare was a closet drinker among other things, a hangover from his younger days when he sniffed glue, smoked weed, and drank like a fish, mostly hard liquor. Today, under the thumb of his wife Mrs Lily White, he’s nothing more than a bored white-haired old man, mainly all skin and bones with the only noticeable meat being under his kilt, still desperately searching for a retirement hobby. Faggot, an alleged paedophile, spends most of his time these days, lying on the sofa-bed watching TV, drinking whiskey, and masturbating. Nightmare’s wife, Lily White, is not exactly a small creature, having spent many years excessively eating cakes and biscuits, she developed an African hippopotamus figure, wobbling and creaking whenever she moved around the house, especially coming down the stairs in their small terraced two-bedroomed council house in Clarkston, Glasgow. The immediate neigh- bours have mentioned they could hear her going up and down the stairs, and once wondered if Nightmare Faggot was hitting Mrs Lily White, taken aback by the loud thumping sounds emanating through the walls. It was this creaking noise that alerted Nightmare that his wife was about to come in the room while he was busily tugging himself off, giving him time to conceal the evidence, but it was too late. Mrs Lily White had noticed Dr Faggot stuffing the Bible under a cushion when she glanced through the open 2 GLASGOW, SCOTLAND lounge room door while plodding downstairs. “Oh, my dear Nightmare, what did you hide under the cushion, show me my love”. For some strange reason, Mrs Lily White still had a big- time crush on Dr Nightmare Faggot, who sheepishly (and that’s another dirty story) pulled the Bible from under the cushion and handed it over to his wife. Bright red-faced, Faggot turned to continue watching the tennis on television and waited for an ear bashing. Lily White knew Faggot like the back of her hand. She held the Bible upside down and shook it briskly, until a newspaper cutting fell out onto the floor. Nightmare was not studying the Bible, he had been reading about Cardinal Pell who was recently convicted in the Australian High Court for sexually molesting underage boys. Faggot, also a deeply religious man and an alleged paedophile himself, was masturbating while he read the article about Cardinal Pell, so God only knows what perverted thoughts were demonising Dr Nightmare Faggot’s mind that afternoon. Mrs Lily White picked up the newspaper cutting and sat alongside Nightmare on the edge of the sofa. Faggot was surprised, she hadn’t raised her voice or swung her fist into his face. Lily White was intensely jealous of Faggot’s interest in little boys, she wanted his feelings and attention all for herself. This time, Mrs Lily White smiled at Nightmare, placing her hand on his pale skeleton like knee cap, sliding it under his kilt up his smooth bony thigh, and then a little higher. She whispered in Faggot’s ear, “Today’s your birthday Nightmare, come with me love, I have a surprise for you”. 3 24 HOURS TO SUPERNOVA “Oh blow me away like a feather”, Nightmare Faggot thought to himself. “The Lord is my shepherd. I wonder what my lovely wife has in store for me. A blow-job, or maybe just a plain old boring hand-job, or, oh my wonderful Lord, full blown anal sex in my favourite hippo-potty-arse”. Faggot was so excited on this special day, his birthday. Dr Nightmare Faggot hadn’t had proper sex with his wife for ages. She’d give Faggot the odd hand-job occasionally when he got a bit too frisky for her liking, menopause also playing its role in her lack of enthusiasm, but mainly, the rumours she had heard over and over again, about her husband sticking his dick into sheep pussy, and little boy’s arses, in fact, any arse if truth be told, was starting to play a toll on her mind. Mrs Lily White always turned a blind eye to anything people said about her husband, like an ostrich, with its head stuck deep into the sand. See no evil, hear no evil. Lily White took her husband’s hand, and with a twinkling loving glint in his eyes, she walked him up to the main bedroom. “Take off your kilt my love, sit on the bed, and close your eyes”, she said to Nightmare, giving him a sloppy kiss on his cheek, not on his dick as he was hoping. By this time, Dr Nightmare Faggot was as hard as a skinny limp pork sausage, all set and raring to go, for his surprise birthday action, or so he desperately wished. Lily White said to Dr Nightmare Faggot, “no peeking now my sweet loving pumpkin, keep your cute little eyes closed”. Nightmare was so excited, he started oozing liquid droplets from the end of his floppy semi-hard penis head. 4 GLASGOW, SCOTLAND Mrs Lily White opened the tall bedroom wardrobe door, put in her arm, and took out a hanger with a pair of long grey slacks and pale blue long-sleeved office-style shirt. “Open your eyes my darling Nightmare”, Mrs Lily White said, with a happy trembling voice. “Surprise, surprise, my love. I bought you some new clothes to wear tonight at your birthday party. Tonight we’re going out to celebrate into the early hours”. Dr Nightmare Faggot went as limp as a wet hankie in seconds, but managed to put on a brave face, smile, and say, “Lily my ever so thoughtful wife, what a lovely, lovely, surprise. I would never have guessed. You are far too kind to me”. “Oh silly Nightmare, it was nothing, go and have a bath, and try on your new clothes, I want to see what my handsome man looks like all dressed up”, Lily replied smiling, while looking down at his ever diminishing child-like manhood. On that note, Mrs Lily White plodded off nosily downstairs, and Faggot headed off to the bathroom to freshen up, and scrub his somewhat tacky hands. 5 2 Hindley, England The following events take place between 2pm and 3pm. 2pm Hindley, England: Princess GayBoy and his grossly rotund wife Lady FatCow had hardly slept a wink last night. The pair of them were ecstatic, jumping over the moon with great excitement and gay abandon. GayBoy, who lived in a mentally fuzzy world of his own, was giggling and smiling to himself all day. He knew what was happening that evening, something he had longed for years to experience. He was very close to his Aunt Lily and Uncle Nightmare, and he wanted tonight’s party to be a very special occasion, especially for Dr Nightmare Faggot, who GayBoy totally admired. Lady FatCow was a different beast, a promiscuous woman in her forties, a no-good wife-swapping childless hussy who lived a sordid underworld lifestyle. Unbeknown to Lady FatCow, she was being surveilled by the local Hindley police, Interpol and the fraud squad. Facing many years behind bars if found guilty, she pressed on with life, totally oblivious to the fact that 6 HINDLEY, ENGLAND she was being watched. Princess GayBoy and Lady FatCow would be driving north from Hindley to Scotland very shortly. First they’d pop in to say hello to Aunt Lily and Uncle Nightmare, have a cuppa, and give Uncle Nightmare a small gift. They bought him a couple of books for his birthday. How to Win Friends and Influence People, by Dale Carnegie, and a must have for everyone, an ancient Indian Sanskrit text on sexuality, the Kama Sutra. Then, GayBoy and FatCow would head off to Carnbooth House Bed & Breakfast, Clarkston, Glasgow, to check-in and have a rest before tonight’s party. Mrs Lily White and Lady FatCow had been planning Dr Nightmare Faggot’s party for quite some time. Both ladies had confided in each other, and came up with a plan to help Dr Faggot. Lily White had indeed become worried about Nightmare’s seemingly obsessive and growing interest in little boys, like his hero, Cardinal Pell. Rather than having a joyous, loving and natural relationship with Lily White, a full bodied female, Dr Nightmare Faggot seemed more interested in children, especially little boys. His behaviour did concern Mrs Lily White from time to time, but she simply brushed the issue aside, feeling it was more a reflection of her husband’s ageing years and he was simply trying to relive his youth once again. Mrs Lily White couldn’t have been more gullible or naïve if she tried. Mrs Lily White and Lady FatCow decided to give Dr Nightmare Faggot a big surprise at the party tonight. They had managed to obtain special permission from Glasgow’s notorious razor 7 24 HOURS TO SUPERNOVA gang, The Rebel Angels, to use their club premises for the party. Lily White and FatCow were also going to surprise Nightmare with one hell of a birthday cake. Lady FatCow had arranged for a massive cake to be baked and decorated at a local bakery in Hindley, who, due to the special occasion, agreed to drive the cake to the Rebel Angel’s gang-club, and when the time was right, wheel it out into the club on a hospital-bed sized mobile- catering table by two very scantily clad females. Now, if that wasn’t enough of a surprise for Dr Nightmare Faggot, Mrs Lily White and Lady FatCow, had also arranged for a near-naked long-haired sexy blonde woman to jump out of the cake, skip across to Dr Nightmare Faggot, sit erotically on his knees, open her legs wide, let his hands wander all over her, and then she would give him a huge long-lasting creamy icing-sugar French kiss, while gently caressing his crutch. Lily White, so desperately hoped that seeing the two scantily dressed females having fun with the Rebel Angels, and the near-naked creamy sexy blonde woman jumping onto Faggot’s lap with such close intimate contact, would arouse his natural animal instincts, and he’d try to sweep Lily White off her feet once again. Lily was so keen to have Dr Nightmare Faggot, throw her onto bed, hoist his Jolly Roger, and give her a howling half hour orgasm deep inside her horny wet pussy for a change, rather than her arse, which Faggot always seemed to prefer. Princess GayBoy was so happy to see his wife bubbling with such excitement, as she talked about the wonderful surprise lined up for Dr Nightmare Faggot. The thought of tonight’s sur- prise party celebrations even aroused GayBoy, so he promptly asked his wife, Lady FatCow, if she’d like to pop upstairs into 8 HINDLEY, ENGLAND their bedroom with him for a quick “how’s your father” up her arsehole, before they headed up north to Glasgow. Lady FatCow said no, because, much as she’d love a quick fuck, she had to pop out to the bakery and double-check with them, that everything was in order, and going ahead as planned. “No problem my erotic little bundle of love” said Princess GayBoy. “God, I so love your magnificent expanse of buttocks, makes me feel like I’m floating on a thousand cushions”, GayBoy thought to himself. Lady FatCow had secured the Rebel Angels gang-club through her brother, Benjamin Spencer, while he was serving time in jail for paedophilia. FatCow had paid an inmate called Gunner Hawk, serving time for armed robbery, assault, and murder, who was a member of the Rebel Angels, about twenty thousand pounds to protect her brother in jail from the other inmates. The money was paid in stages to avoid any reneging after the funds were paid out. Lady FatCow, also asked Gunner Hawk if he’d contact his club’s admin chief and request use of the gang-club hall for one night for a party. She explained the whole setup regarding Dr Nightmare Faggot, and the reasons why. She would pay the club five grand for use of their club, and, if the club also provided several Razor Gang members for the night, she would pay all of their food and drink, plus give them all two grand each, if they would gang-bang the lady who jumps out of the cake, right in front of Dr Nightmare Faggot. The cake lady has been well paid, and is very happy for a sexy fun night with the gang. Gunner Hawk had no hesitation agreeing to the deal, and the gang-club’s premises were Lady 9 24 HOURS TO SUPERNOVA FatCow’s for the night. Princess GayBoy was going through his cross-dressing under- wear, trying to decide what he should wear under his black Adidas track pants and bright yellow polo shirt. In the end he chose a darkish red frilly-lace bra, and his favourite light- pinkish silky see-through panties which FatCow had helped him choose a few months ago. Lady FatCow popped up to the bathroom toilet, closed the door, took a small glass container out of her pocket, and urinated into it, until it was half full. She put the lid back on, washed it under the sink tap, dried it off with a towel, and then popped the container back into her pocket. “I’m just off out now lover boy”, she said to Princess GayBoy, “just off to the bakery to check out the cake’s all good. See you soon. Bye”. When Lady FatCow arrived at the bakery, they were just mixing the last lot of creamy icing-sugar mix to pipe onto the cake for additional decoration. “Great timing”, Lady FatCow thought to herself. She watched the huge mixing bowl turning slowly around when the bakery phone rang. This was of course a setup by Lady FatCow, as she had put the number in her smartphone, all ready to press the dial-button at a moment’s notice. When the baker went to the office to answer the phone, FatCow took out the glass jar and emptied her urine into the mixing bowl, watching it nicely blend in with the mixture in seconds. Lady FatCow smiled, she was feeling very pleased with herself, to have managed her snail-trail urine sample so easily. Lady FatCow had this thing about leaving her mark, a bit like a tom- 10 HINDLEY, ENGLAND cat, whenever she could. Her urine was really her idea of a snail- trail, and when everyone ate some of Dr Nightmare Faggot’s birthday cake in the evening, she would know that they were sampling a little of her fresh urine, and that made her feel warm inside, especially believing it would be a bit like bringing the Rebel Angels gang closer to her pussy, as though they were all eating her out. FatCow nearly wet her pants at the thought. She would have loved to have jumped out of the birthday cake herself, and let the Rebel Angels gang-bang her instead of the sexy blonde, but, with Lady FatCow being the size of a sumo- wrestler, that was totally impossible. They would probably need a fork-lift truck to pull her out of the cake. When the baker came back, Lady FatCow checked all was well with the cake schedule and delivery to the Rebel Angel’s gang- club. By a stroke of luck, the rather slim sexy looking long- haired blonde woman arrived just as Lady FatCow was leaving. “Hi” she said to FatCow, “just coming to check that I can position myself properly to jump out, of the cake tonight. I have a feeling in the morning, I’ll be a bit sore around the hips, if you get my drift. I’ve heard that these Rebel Angels can fuck the hell out of you. So excited. What an easy way to earn money. See you later tonight for the show”. “Bye, see you tonight” said Lady FatCow, feeling a bit jealous. Back home, GayBoy had a few tears running down his face, and was happily laughing out loud to himself while he got dressed. He had just remembered, that years ago he had been invited to a bulimic bachelor party, where the cake jumped out of the girl. He thought that was so funny at the time. However, tonight, 11 24 HOURS TO SUPERNOVA was the real deal. 12 3 The Beast of Clarkston Gerard sat with his chin resting in cupped hands, elbows on the table, staring at the screen on his Dell XPS 13 laptop, periodically looking up at the schematic flowchart on his home- office wall. The wallchart consisted of four A3 sheets of paper neatly stuck together with clear tape and fixed to the wall with several brass drawing pins scattered all around the edges. About two dozen 4x6 photos were stuck to the chart with a matrix of criss-crossing lines joining several photos together. Numerous hand written notes were scribbled all over the place, nearly completely filling the wallchart, and the Pendaflex filing system Gerard Baker had on this bastard, was also bulging at the seams. Gerard was determined to get Nightmare Faggot off the streets for good. On the mid-righthand side of the chart, two thick black marker- pen lines had been drawn down from the top to the bottom of the wallchart, separating the main body of photos from the three images stuck on the far righthand side of the chart. Gerard Baker at the top, Hernandez Santos in the middle and 13 24 HOURS TO SUPERNOVA Sir Godfather at the bottom. These three men had become very good friends, having initially been drawn together somewhat fortuitously, while chasing down perverts and terrorists. In fact, their link was incredibly uncanny, they seemed to have more of a deeply religious connection, like the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Gerard Baker, currently based in Glasgow, Scotland, worked undercover for Interpol for over thirty years and he was absolutely determined to catch Dr Nightmare Faggot before retiring from Interpol at year’s end. Faggot had been on Gerard’s watch list for years, but somehow, he still managed to escape the scales of justice. Gerard believed that Faggot’s modus operandi was nearly identical to the appalling behaviour of the late Jimmy Savile. Nightmare Faggot was an educated man, well known and trusted, but behind the scenes he was a beast, a despicable monster, just like Savile. Written in bright red highlighter pen below Faggot’s photo on the wallchart were the words “The Beast of Clarkston” and beneath those chilling words, Gerard had also scribbled in blue biro “I’ll get you one day, you fucken bastard!” Dr Nightmare Faggot was an educated conman and a pervert. He obviously found it easy to dupe people, especially women, the weak and vulnerable. Faggot’s wife, Mrs Lily White simply doted on him, often saying that he was a kind and loving husband. How could she not see the truth about Dr Nightmare Faggot, or perhaps she did, and it was just easier in life for her to turn a blind eye by playing the ostrich game. Gerard had posed as an investigative journalist some time 14 THE BEAST OF CLARKSTON ago, and had constructed a comprehensive file on Faggot’s perverted wrongdoings, albeit, a lot of the material was hearsay from interviews. However, Gerard believed that, with the information he had already compiled about Dr Nightmare Faggot, combined with the details that he had obtained from Sir Godfather, he would easily make a case to charge and convict Faggot in court, and have the bastard locked up for the rest of his natural life. Gerard noted in his file that Dr Nightmare Faggot was a non- blood outsider who had weaselled his way into the family group several years ago by marrying Sir Godfather’s sister, Mrs Lily White. Apparently, according to many other family members, Faggot had not only tried to manipulate and control everyone in the family, he had also tried to drive wedges between parents and their children. A lot of Dr Nightmare Faggot’s behaviour didn’t make sense to Gerard Baker, and he felt sure that Nightmare Faggot had some grand scheme at play. Why disrupt his de-facto family, when life was good. Dr Nightmare Faggot used to torment and bully various people in the family, which is why Sir Godfather became involved in the first place. Faggot would try to degrade and humiliate children in front of their family, then simply shrug the situation off, by saying that they weren’t children anymore. Instead, Dr Nightmare Faggot referred to them as adult offspring and stated that the word “children” was just an emotive term. “What a sick psychological mother fucker” Gerard Baker thought to himself. “Why on earth did the rest of the family put up with that cult- like weirdo? Why didn’t Mrs Lily White just kick the bastard out?”, so many unanswered questions. 15 24 HOURS TO SUPERNOVA Life was good for the family, so there was no need for Night- mare Faggot to behave in such a manner. “Yes, he was an alleged child molester and paedophile, but purely by good luck, he had managed to escape being prosecuted, so why not lie low, and enjoy life? Why not just keep his fucken mouth shut? Perhaps deep down, Nightmare Faggot wanted to get caught? Perhaps past guilt was tormenting Nightmare Faggot to confess his sins? There was so much speculation, so many unanswered questions”, Gerard Baker pondered to himself, as he thumped his fist down onto his office table. “This wanker is such a fucking piece of shit. Fuck the bastard, he’s going down even if it kills me. He doesn’t deserve to walk the streets a free man”. Many years ago, a close family relative, Professor Vincent Love, passed away. He had been a highly specialised mathematical and statistical analyst. Professor Vincent Love had devel- oped modelling self-learning artificial-intelligence formulae to forecast the location and volume of oil deposits below the seafloor. Professor Love was the sole owner of the patents for his analytical modelling formulae, and as such, he could sell the techniques to whoever he wished. Many oil-drilling firms throughout the world purchased Professor Vincent Love’s AI formulae, which not only saved the businesses hundreds of millions of dollars in deep-sea oil drilling geology & seismology survey costs, the companies also increased their oil-reserves and profit margins many times over. This in turn made Professor Love exceptionally wealthy via royalties. Professor Vincent Love’s gross earnings over the years, were estimated to be around one and half billion US dollars, but much of his money would have been gobbled up by gifts that 16 THE BEAST OF CLARKSTON he frequently made to various charities, and the government tax grab. However, Professor Love still had significant cash in the bank when he passed away, of which several million dollars were distributed to Sir Godfather’s extended family, including Dr Nightmare Faggot himself, who got a sizeable bun- dle. Considering the fortuitous circumstances, Gerard Baker thought, there was absolutely no reason why Dr Nightmare Faggot shouldn’t just lie low, count his lucky stars, and simply enjoy the remaining years of his life. Unfortunately, Professor Love’s Will stipulated that Dr Night- mare Faggot had to look after and administer the funds to certain other family members, to ensure the money was not spent unwisely. With Faggot’s institutionalised background in education, this probably aroused his inner beast again, giving him the feeling of authority to use the belt and cane heavy- handed approach towards others, and have them adhere to his demands and wishes, as he did many years ago when he taught young kids. The rest of what that monster did back in those early days to those innocent children, doesn’t bear thinking about. The beast had stirred and was on the prowl again. Fortunately, Sir Godfather arrived on the scene, and Dr Nightmare Faggot’s dirty little world would change forever. 17 4 Nightmare Conversation Hernandez put the phone down, stubbed his cigarette out, skulled the last dregs of straight Jim Beam bourbon at the bottom of his favourite old china mug, had a little chuckle to himself, rubbed his hands together as he smiled and muttered under his breath, “got the bastards this time, I’m sure we’ve got them all”. Hernandez Santos had just completed a three-way conference call with Gerard Baker and Sir Godfather. Hernandez still used the old telephone system, he much preferred holding the phone tucked under his ear and held in place by his shoulder, freeing his hands to flick through paperwork and type notes on a computer keyboard. Hernandez, or Hernia, as he’s nicknamed by a select few contacts, was still an active intelligence agent with FVEY, the Five-Eyes alliance. Gerard Baker, soon to retire from service, has had an intensive career with Interpol based in the UK, and Sir Godfather, now well retired from active duty, still 18 NIGHTMARE CONVERSATION maintained regular contact with the CIA, MI6, and the NZSIS – New Zealand’s Security Intelligence Service. They were a formidable undercover investigative group, who were brought together by an incredible series of fortuitous events. Soon the three operatives would meet up for Dr Nightmare Fag- got’s party, hoping to arrest him and his illegitimate daughter Lady FatCow. Hernia also wanted to finalise a plan to trap and capture Tidianne Mamadou, once thought to be nothing more than a small-time hustler and contraband smuggler, but very recently, he was discovered to be a lone sleeper-cell terrorist. Tidianne Mamadou was accidently exposed by his ex-girlfriend, Mother Superior, who had raided his apartment trying to recover a gold ring she believed that Tidianne had stolen from her. Gerard Baker already had a large comprehensive file detailing Dr Nightmare Faggot’s repulsive past behaviour, but now, with further information from Sir Godfather, and some bone- chilling commentary obtained from a cunning “setup-job” interview with Dr Nightmare Faggot by Hernandez Santos posing to be the author of an upcoming mystery thriller, the trap was well and truly loaded, and set in concrete. Hernandez Santos rang Dr Nightmare Faggot at home several times, but Nightmare always refused to take phone calls directly, leaving his telephone answering machine to do the initial talking. However, one afternoon, Nightmare Faggot was seen having an iced-coffee in a local Clarkston café, so Hernandez immediately pounced on the unexpected opportunity. 19 24 HOURS TO SUPERNOVA “Afternoon Dr Faggot, I’d like to chat to you about the activities of your illegitimate daughter Lady FatCow”. Dr Nightmare Faggot was shocked, he turned quite pale in his face, caught unawares and totally stunned how a perfect stranger could just front up in the café, and corner him out of the blue with such an accusation. Nightmare Faggot was very protective of his illegitimate daughter, so much so, that he had never even told his much-loved wife, Mrs Lily White, the truth about Lady FatCow. “I’ve tried to ring you a few times Faggot, but you refuse to take my calls. Look here’s the deal. Give me an interview for my book, I promise not to mention your real name and I’ll keep your daughter out of it all”. Dr Faggot reluctantly agreed and Hernandez Santos got his interview, and with it, the missing jigsaw pieces Gerard Baker needed to charge Dr Nightmare Faggot, and hopefully close the case before retiring. The interview was bone chilling: Hernandez Santos: Tell me about the accusation. Nightmare Faggot: I was accused of forcing my neighbour’s 9-year-old nephew to give me a blow-job and masturbate me in the back of my car. It’s all fucking bullshit man, because I wasn’t even living in Glasgow at the time. So, you weren’t there? No mother fucker, I was nowhere near the place, it’s totally fucking bullshit man. 20 NIGHTMARE CONVERSATION You’re not a paedophile? No way, I don’t believe in that shit man, it’s disgusting. People like that are sick and should never get out of jail. They should be injected and castrated so they don’t get urges anymore. You can’t go around doing shit like that, it’s nightmare faggot stuff, it’s fucking disgusting. You don’t molest little kids? No, I swear on the Holy Bible and my wife’s white lilies, no never, I’m no beast. So why do some family say otherwise? Some family are just emotionally charged and don’t want to look at the facts. All they see is a victim, but sometimes the victim plays on it. That’s what it was, just a family feud that got out of control. I don’t do kiddy porn paedophile shit with nobody man. How did your wife respond to the accusation? My wife was devastated because she knows what I’m like. She doesn’t doubt me one little bit at all, because she knows I always tell the truth. And has your relationship changed because of this? Before all of this nightmare paedophile shit started, we had such a great life. We had a loving relationship that everyone in the world would envy, and sexually man, there was no problem in that department. Now, since all of this fucken crap has happened, sex with my wife is practically non-existent. I have to hoist the Jolly Roger myself now when I’m lying on the sofa watching TV. Life’s changed so bad for me man. 21 24 HOURS TO SUPERNOVA Do you ever go out in public? Not much anymore, I try to disguise myself when I do go out. I’m sort of paranoid in case someone recognises me because I’ve been named and shamed in family articles and a book written by an investigative journalist called Gerard Baker, heard of him? It’s not fair, I’m innocent, I don’t even look like a paedophile for fuck’s sake? What were the articles about? Well, Lady FatCow’s brother was involved. That fucken bastard was jailed for being a paedophile, so that was the real story. So now, fuckers see me and want to beat the crap out of me, fuck! It’s not like we were running a child porno paedophile ring, or any sick shit like that. Maybe some photo images on my computer, but that’s all man, I swear, it’s the truth for fuck’s sake. Has anyone ever recognised you? No mother fucker, of course not, that’s the real silly part for fuck’s sake, they haven’t. Nobody’s recognised me, because it was someone else, but I still get blamed. How are you treated now? Every day I’m bullied, people call me KFC (Kiddy-Fucking Cunt). When I go out to the doctors or whatever, they spray paint on my fence, windows get smashed and stuff stolen. They’re the criminals not me, I’m an innocent victim. Do you feel nervous around children? Oh yeah, like I have thoughts about if I see little kids run across the road in front of a truck. Do I just grab the kid and 22 NIGHTMARE CONVERSATION take the chance of getting in trouble with the police, or do I just look the other way, and bear the shame of the kid getting bowled over? My life’s a fucking nightmare man. Have your neighbours been reluctant to leave you alone with their kids? Yes and no. Like if we invite them for dinner, they want to know what happens if the police turn up. Like mother fucker, can you believe that shit for fuck’s sake. Do you work? I’m retired but I couldn’t get a job anyway even if I tried, because some people think I’m a paedophile and on the sex offenders list. What fucking bullshit, it’s all fake crap rumours. So, what helps? Do you read the Bible? Do you go to church? Well, I was forced to leave my favourite church because there were far too many kids there. Now I go to a different church and I always have someone with me who can be my alibi if something bad is said about me. I’m a deeply religious man and pray a lot, but I’m no Saint, that’s for sure. But you still believe in God? When people first got suspicious of me, I totally lost my faith and love of God. Then I got terribly paranoid and didn’t want to go anywhere. When I went back to church, I regained a lot of inner strength and belief in myself once more. I found true love for God again, more now than ever before. God knows I’m innocent, that’s what keeps me strong, makes me feel like a real man. 23 24 HOURS TO SUPERNOVA What do you think of your family? Some are really good and some live overseas. I’ve got brothers-in-law in the USA and in New Zealand believe it or not. My family’s spread all over the world. Do you get on with your overseas family? Not my brothers-in-law, they can go fuck themselves, useless pieces of shit they are. Tell me more about your brothers-in-law? Fuck you arsehole, the interview’s over. You can go and get fucked yourself mother fucker. I don’t need to take your shit or stupid fucken questions. Go blow your tosser interview out your arse. Fuck off cunt. Please Dr Faggot, if I don’t discuss your family will you continue? Okay, 5 minutes only, but no fucking U-turns or I’m done, that’s it mother fucker. I’ve heard you’re an academic so why swear so much? Jeez man, you’re fucking with my head, I’m acting, it’s a cover. Acting? A cover? I have to protect my wife, Mrs Lily White. I don’t want her reading any of this shit and working out it’s me. If I don't mention your name, will you open up? Alright, I hate swearing anyway, it’s not me. What do you think of paedophilia? 24 NIGHTMARE CONVERSATION This arbitrary and oppressive idea of consent, ultimately destroys the understanding many of us have regarding the com- plexities, subtleties and complicated nature of deep fulfilling relationships. Oppressive idea of consent? People are messy and complex, especially in the elderly faggot homosexual world. Some relationships between young pre- puberty boys and old men like myself, are really just coming of age relationships. Wow, you believe that? The loving intimate relationships with older men have unquestionably helped those young boys discover who they are, plus given them much needed security and safety. It’s provided them with a sincere love and a reliable sort of a rock that they can’t get from their parents. The young-boy older- men relationships can provide the kids with some of the most incredibly satisfying bonds of love possible. I should know. It sounds more like Catholic Priest molestation to me? Well, I am grateful for Father Michael if God’s truth be told. I most certainly wouldn’t be able to give nearly such a good blow job or anal rumble in the back seat of my car if it wasn’t for him. (Dr Faggot sneered a little and winked briefly at Hernandez). You think that’s good for kids? Look, let’s be frank and truthful here. I’m just talking about how some of these young kids getting coddled by Catholic Priests is actually a really good thing for them. They are getting love, and they are also getting dick. 25 24 HOURS TO SUPERNOVA Getting love and dick? You misunderstand the joy of paedophilia. It’s not a sexual attraction to young kids who are sexually mature. Paedophilia is an attraction to beautiful children who have not yet reached puberty. Paedophilia is a loving attraction to youngsters who don’t yet have fully functioning sex organs. These kids are too young to understand the actual meaning of the sex act. Are you talking cross-generational relationships here? Yes, I don’t mind admitting that, especially in the gay world and outside the Catholic Church. I think some of the most important enriching and incredibly life affirming bonds that shape relationships, often occur between young boys and old men, and they can be hugely positive experiences. Hernandez Santos: It’s my time to swear. You’re totally fucked in the head Faggot! End of interview, I’m out of here. Hernandez closed his notepad, stuffed his blue biro pen into his shirt top pocket, got up out of his chair, didn’t say another word to Nightmare Faggot, then walked briskly out of the café door into the street, disappearing quickly amongst the busy shopping crowds. Hernandez had a Cheshire cat grin on his face. Disgusting as the interview was, it was clearly going to be nail in the coffin stuff for Faggot. “That guy is totally fucked in the head”, Hernandez thought to himself. “The world will be far safer when he’s taken off the street and locked up for life”. 26 5 The Faggot File Gerard Baker’s files on Dr Nightmare Faggot were bulging at the seams. Pages and pages of A4 notes, statements, photos, newspaper cuttings, plus commentary from several distressing victim interviews, all stapled together into small grouped bundles and slotted into his Pendaflex filing system folders. Some paperwork was two-holed punched and stuffed into an old school binder, such was the way with Gerard Baker, never one for tidiness. However, most of the detail was instantly at call from memory, and he knew exactly where everything was located in his files which could be recalled at a moment’s notice if necessary. Gerard had talked to many people and interviewed at least three potential key witnesses, in his pursuit of justice. He was totally focussed and absolutely determined to convict Nightmare Faggot for his vile crimes, have him permanently taken off the streets and sent to jail for the rest of his natural life. Gerard’s Pendaflex filing system, routinely referred to as “The Faggot File” contained detailed notes covering Dr Nightmare 27 24 HOURS TO SUPERNOVA Faggot’s mother, his childhood and adolescent years, his years as a teacher, his married life, his family connections around Scotland and in several countries overseas including the USA and New Zealand, his illegitimate daughter Lady FatCow, his regular visits to 4-Cliffs Care Home in Clarkston, Glasgow, plus a bundle of other greatly disturbing behavioural accusations such as running a child pornography ring with his illegitimate daughter Lady FatCow, paedophilia and bestiality. How Night- mare Faggot remained a free man to walk the streets remains a mystery to this day, and a terrible injustice to society. Gerard felt a little sympathy and empathy towards Faggot when he pondered the life Faggot must have experienced as a child, but that faded away into oblivion when he reviewed all of the other shit Faggot had stirred for over 60 years. Faggot’s mum was a kind hard-working soul, but a street whore none the less. She was born and bred in no mean city – the Gorbals of Glasgow, a densely populated district with some of the worst conditions of post-war Europe at the time. Faggot’s mother never married. She gave birth to two kids in quick succession, two sons, to two different dads, Nightmare the eldest, and Jerimiah nine months later. She got pregnant to a couple of clients who gave her a little extra money for full sex rather than her usual blow-job. She preferred blow-jobs, they were over quickly and an easy way to earn some pennies to buy food for the table. Disgusting as it sounds, she always swallowed the low-life scum bags’ load. She said it partly filled her tummy and gave her some much-needed vitamins, which left her with more money to buy essentials and feed her two children. Her heart was always in the right place, and as far as 28 THE FAGGOT FILE she could recall, Nightmare Faggot’s dad was a married dead- beat coal miner from the violent South side of town, but she had no idea who Jerimiah’s dad was. Gerard Baker flicked through some pages in his bulky file, pausing at one section, the horror story of 4-Cliffs Care Home in Clarkston, Glasgow. Shaking his head from side to side in disbelief, he wondered why Dr Nightmare Faggot had never been exposed and caught, his behaviour was strikingly similar to Jimmy Savile’s vile life. Gerard was only able to complete some key sections of Faggot’s life after discussing the moron with Sir Godfather who lived in New Zealand. Dr Nightmare Faggot’s wife, the naïve and gullible Mrs Lily White, was Sir Godfather’s younger sister. It was only in the past three years or so, after Gerard flew to New Zealand to meet Sir Godfather, that the jigsaw pieces really started to fall into place. Sir Godfather explained what he suspected, and also what he believed was a more detailed truth about Nightmare’s behaviour. He filled in the missing pieces about Faggot’s weird and twisted activities on the farm in Canterbury, New Zealand, and what Faggot’s awful twice- weekly visits to 4-Cliffs Care Home in Clarkston, Glasgow, was really all about. Gerard Baker and Sir Godfather became good friends, but were stunned when they compared notes and saw how accurately they had both drawn the same big picture. The jigsaw pieces started to fit perfectly. Surely it was just a matter of time before they exposed Faggot and had him sent off to prison, hopefully to spend the rest of his natural life there. A fitting end for such a 29 24 HOURS TO SUPERNOVA pervert, because his own end would get its just deserts in prison, as his fellow inmates would gang-bang him into oblivion, by turning Dr Nightmare Faggot’s own arsehole into the size of a tropical watermelon. Sir Godfather first explained to Gerard what had happened down on the farm in New Zealand. Faggot had a second cousin, Mr Pedro Filly, who owned a ten-acre lifestyle block near Geraldine in the South Island of New Zealand. Mrs Lily White and Faggot would visit Pedro every two to three years when they travelled overseas to visit other family in Auckland and Hamilton, New Zealand. Typically, Lily and Nightmare would head out for a decent walk together every evening in the fresh air, even when they were travelling abroad. This changed when they visited Pedro for a few days. Faggot would always look for an opportunity to pop out for an hour or so by himself. “Just off for a stroll Lily, back soon”, Faggot would say. Mrs Lily White became a little anxious to say the least, she couldn’t understand why Dr Nightmare Faggot didn’t ask her to come along as normal, so she decided to set a trap and follow her husband one evening. She excused herself to go to the toilet and very shortly afterwards, Faggot said “just off for a stroll Lily, back soon”. Lily replied, “no problem dear, see you when you get back, enjoy your walk my darling”. Mrs Lily White waited a few minutes, then, while Pedro Filly and his wife were preparing the evening’s dinner in the kitchen, she left the country cottage to follow Nightmare. Lily remained a couple of minutes behind, and well out of sight. She followed Faggot on a what seemed like a normal stroll 30 THE FAGGOT FILE around the lifestyle block grounds, when, all of a sudden, Faggot stopped abruptly, quickly looked around as if to check that nobody was watching. He then swung his leg over the adjoining neighbour’s paddock fence, and briskly walked over to the other side of the paddock. How strange Lily thought to herself. She waited until Faggot had disappeared over and down the hillside, then she quickly followed once again. As she got closer to where Faggot had disappeared from her radar, she could hear a shuffling type noise and grunting. “Oh, my beloved Jesus” she thought to herself, “what on earth is going on”. Lily sneaked in behind a large sprawling gorse bush to spy on Faggot, and boy, did she get the surprise of her life. Her precious Nightmare had scaled the neighbour’s fence into the adjoining property which was a five hundred-acre Marino sheep farm, and her dear Nightmare had come across a very stressed sheep with its head stuck in the paddock fencing. Faggot was standing at the back of the sheep, gripping the long curly knotted fleece around the sheep’s neck so tightly, that his knuckles had turned white. Faggot’s long dark blue trousers were on the ground, his silky light-blue underpants were wrapped around his ankles, leaving his old naked pale shrivelled-skin bottom glistening in the evening light under his shirt tails, staring at Mrs Lily White’s flabbergasted face. Mrs Lily White jumped up in sheer bloody horror, “for fuck sakes Faggot, what the bloody hell are you doing?” she yelled. “Don’t worry dear, it’s all right my little petal, my little pumpkin, my love, the sheep’s head is stuck in the paddock fence and I’m only trying to pull its head out gently and free the poor wee thing”. Lily looked worried, but she accepted Faggot’s 31 24 HOURS TO SUPERNOVA explanation, that his clothing had simply worked loose and fallen down in the struggle while he was desperately trying to free the young sheep’s head. Dr Nightmare Faggot was, after all, a tallish slim skeleton-like man, with little meat on his bones. “Quite a convincing and very plausible reason”, Mrs Lily White thought to herself. She was so proud of her Nightmare, a very special man in her life, who always cared so much about others, that he forever put them before himself, even sheep. By a stroke of good luck, Sir Godfather and his wife, the Wicked Witch, had also been invited to stay at Pedro’s cottage for a couple of days along with Lily and Nightmare. Lily White and the Wicked Witch were great friends of old, as thick as thieves, if truth be told. At dinner that evening, Lily described what had happened to the sheep, and how her loving husband had rescued the poor animal. Everyone praised Nightmare, raising their glasses to offer a “hip hip hooray” applause, but not Sir Godfather, who continued eating his roast lamb dinner, muttering quietly under his breath to himself, “No way mother fucker, that’s fucken bullshit, you must be fucking kidding???”. Sir Godfather waited until the others were sipping their hot chocolate and playing a game of scrabble after dinner, then said “hey, I’m just off out for a walk, need some fresh air”. Dr Nightmare Faggot momentarily glanced up with a sleazy sneery- grin on his face and replied, “enjoy”. This was Sir Godfather’s first opportunity to find out the truth. He quickly put on his outdoor walking jacket, opened the door, and headed up the road towards the neighbour’s house. It took a very fit Sir Godfather, only a brief few minutes, striding out as fast as he could, to reach the neighbour’s old-stone type farm house and 32
Enter the password to open this PDF file:
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-