As Joe reels backward, a long deep howl emerges from behind the courthouse. Everybody, including the sandy colored creatures, freeze in their tracks. Out of the woods, on all four legs, come bounding fourteen huge white wolves.  

Each of these new fellows goes after a sandy wolf of his own. The sandy creatures panic and most try to run. One by one walking upright, with long supernatural claws of their own, the white wolves hamstring each of them. 

A pretty little Mormon woman who had recently spoken disrespectfully about white German werewolves, now looks properly contrite and grateful after one of the white fellows kills a sandyman who was about to kill her. 

The activity begins to look like an intramural lycanthrope massacre, until one of the white fellows pulls the head piece off the largest of the sandy creatures. The others follow suit. 

Walter looks at each exposed man and recognizes two of them,

“These men are Israelis; the ones we’ve heard the Arabs talk about. 

The largest of the white wolves says to Walter. 

“And we are the Germans you have heard about. We are SS Wehrwolf Division Eight, at your service, Mr. Durrant. We were sorry to hear about your son and the other kids killed while camping. We have been looking forward to this battle, and this time we are going to win the war as well. 

Three of the women faint, almost on que, simultaneously. Bonnie looks at Daryl and smirks, but gloriously, 

“You men!” 

The white wolves go bounding back into the woods. Friends and family begin to gather up Joe Plummer for a fast ride to the hospital. 

Daryl addresses the entire group, 

“I’m calling for ambulances, then the police. These Israeli murderers are going to stand trial in America, and we’ll see if the tribal media bosses can cover this up. 

One of the suffering Israelis props himself up on one elbow and croaks venomously, as loud as he can, to all the Americans. 

“Goyim, fuck you all!” 

Walter Durrant walks over, 

“No, fuck you all!” and kicks him in the face.  

Across the street, a young FBI man on foot, arriving late for the trial, sees the goings on and begins to retreat stealthily to his car, but from behind, the head an arrow emerges from his esophagus. He’s dead before he hits the ground. Hilton Armstrong, clad in forest green, grins with pure delight, as he ducks back behind the huge tree, and heads off through the woods to his car, then into town for a hearty breakfast at a big classic American stainless steel diner with a cute waitress. 

Later that day, as Hilton drives home, a housekeeper discovers her employer, Reverend Banning Turncotis, in a snow bank behind the parsonage with an arrow in his heart. Now he won’t be able to earnestly endorse any more African settlements to his reluctant congregation in the interest of globalist “love and brotherhood.” Sally MacKay’s family decides not to attend the services that mark his passing.