Sneak Peek: Mike Edison's Bye Bye, Miss American Pie

Bye Bye, Miss American Pie is Mike Edison's outrageous tale of an attractive female senator running for president who, much to her opponent's delight, gets caught en flagrante with her illegal--but totally hot!--immigrant pool boy. She's forced to go on television to apologize to the nation, but she has other ideas, and when she tells a stunned America, "I got mine, now get yours! You know you want it!" she inadvertently kindles a new American sexual revolution and launches the wildest campaign in history.

Take a look at a sneak peek from the book below, then head on over to Amazon to get the rest of the story!

The photo was a bit blurry, but it sure did look like Senator Barbra Bernstein, naked except for her ever tasteful earrings,

And she was straddling a good-looking young man of indeterminable ethnic background, also naked. Her head reared back, like a tigress.

Her toes curled in carnal delight.

A bit of sun splashed off of her breasts.

She was in great shape for a woman her age. She looked good.

The headlines were a symphony of yellow journalism:

OH YES , WE HAVE A BANANA!

SENATOR BERNSTEIN'S SLEAZY SEX SHOCKER !

CAUGHT IN THE ACT WITH LATIN LOVE MACHINE!! WHAM! BAM!! THANK YOU BABS !!!

Already the TV was bursting with the story. Every channel had picked it up. The Conservative News Network was howling for her to resign her candidacy for president immediately.

The Communist News Network was slightly more circumspect and featured a phalanx of pundits explaining how easily this could have been faked, but it didn't stop them from showing the photo over and over again.

Rumors of Senator Bernstein's live-in Latin Lover had been buzzing around Washington for some time. And it was no secret that her happy-go-lucky hippy hubby was dorking every starry-eyed slice of scissor-cake at the liberal University where he taught self-righteous Leftist garbage to malleable young marxists-in-training.

They would have made a helluva first family.

If anyone was going to get the dirt on Senator Bernstein's Taco-Bell Valentino, Herman was the guy… he had put one of his top men on the job of getting the grime on Barbra, a dangerous psychopath who had once deposited a dead Hollywood starlet on the front lawn of a leftist South American dictator.

But he never thought they'd actually catch her getting her burrito stuffed en flagrante delito con salsa picante.

This was a gift from Heaven. Herman looked closely at the photo. She looked good, alright. Maybe too good—there was no way in hell a United States Senator could have tits like that.

* * *

"I don't think we can ignore this any longer," Letitia was telling Barbra.

The vultures were circling, the conservative carrion birds swarming into action. This is disgusting! they bellowed, calling for Congressional investigations, search warrants, tar and feathers, truth serums, and electric chairs. This is a disgrace! they howled, while demanding repeal of the 19th Amendment.

"She has broken two laws, God's and Man's," screamed the governor of a large southern state, a man often considered to be his party's most eloquent spokesman. "Ricky Ricardo may swing his dick like a baseball bat, but that don't make him no American."

"I don't think we have to dignify this with more than a few words," Letitia told Barbra. "Of course the woman in the photo is not you, and it is time to move on. Take the moral high road—‘we are appalled at the depths our opponents will take to win an election, but we are made of stronger stuff.' We need ideas, a plan, some vision. You know what to say. Try not to sound too self-righteous."

Senator Bernstein let out a slightly exasperated breath, as if she were about to explain something to a complete imbecile.

"It isn't going to be that easy, Letitia. Let me ask you something," she went on, solicitously, and now slightly warmer, with the love of a parent reassuring her emotionally challenged child. "Do you really think I would hire an illegal immigrant if he wasn't good for something besides cleaning the pool?"

Letitia thought this over for a moment.

"So what are you saying? That you've got him mowing your lawn, too?"

Barbra offered one more exasperated breath. "In a manner of speaking, yes."

For a moment there was a great and uncomfortable silence between the two women. Letitia felt dizzy. Something was terribly wrong.

The Senator was trying to tell her something, but Letitia's brain was resisting. And then, as if someone had dropped an anvil out of a very tall building at the beginning of their conversation, but it was just now landing on her on the head, she got it. "Jesus, Barbra…"

"Don't Jesus me, Letitia. My husband's been out poking every hippie freshman since the Dawning of the Age of Mutherfucking Aquarius, and I want mine. Lemme tell you, sister, Pedro's got a cock like a jackhammer. He sticks that thing in me and I swear I can taste it in the back of my throat. You oughtta break yourself off a piece of that action."

"Jesus, Barbra…"

"I said don't Jesus me, Letitia."

"Well, we have to do something, and fast or This campaign is over." "Don't be ridiculous, Letitia," Barbra said. "Don't be so uptight. I'll go on TV tonight and fix everything."

* * *

The country loved contrition. They lived for true confessions.

Fess up. Own it! Plead for America's forgiveness and they will give it. Praise God. Hallelujah. Boy Howdy!

Barbra took the podium and adjusted the microphone. She was very easy with it, her fingers adroitly moving the shiny tube closer to her mouth. The entire room let out a collective sigh. "The problem with self righteous people," she began, "is that they always want to rain on someone else's parade. Haven't we had enough of prudes running this country?"

It wasn't Lincoln's First Inaugural, nor Kennedy's, for that matter, but it was loaded with pith and dramatic import. It didn't quite hit the high notes of Martin Luther King's "I Have Been to the Mountaintop" speech, but for some members of the American people, it still rang with the bell tones of liberation.

She went on to talk about the Pursuit of Happiness. She talked about Liberty, and Freedom from Tyranny at Home.

She looked straight into the camera, straight into the hearts and loins of America, and this is what she said: "I got mine, America, now get yours. You know you want it!"

And that night, more American s had sex than at any time since the end of World War II . And they all went to work the next day happy, albeit a bit late.

The entire country seemed to glow. Every single economic indicator was up. The stock market was through the roof. Bosses were handing our raises like candy on Halloween. Women went off their diets. One supermodel was even seen tucking into a cheeseburger. Television news anchors were so happy when they reported the news that day, it seemed as if all of America's problems had evaporated overnight. Terrorism? What terrorism?? Even the weather was going to be all sunshine. Not a cloud in sight!

And Senator Barbra Bernstein—Wham Bam Bernstein! You Know You Want It Bernstein! — was now, unquestionably, the most popular person in America.

Copyright Mike Edison 2012.

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