Biggerhead

By William J. Atkins

As the 2012 Presidential Election approaches social and cultural issues take center stage and these seven politicians intend to keep them in the spotlight. Biggerhead is a first rate "who done it" that is folded into a political satire. Plausible situations and credible conflict launch this parody on a joy ride that could have been ripped out of the headlines. Murder, sex, back-stabbing, and misuse of power all come together in a fun romp through the American political "tea fields" as Republicans try to deny the president another term in the White House. By tackling heady issues with a sense of humor, the authors have created a very entertaining read. If you think this time "THEY have gone too far", Biggerhead is for you, just don't tell your right-wingnut friends and family because it could make for uncomfortable holiday celebrations.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William J. Atkins
• Release date: Feb 22, 2012
• ISBN: 9780615583648

William J. Atkins

William J. Atkins wrote his first full-length novel after thirty years as an international financial services executive. His life experiences in international sales and marketing exposed him to the cultural cross currents that feed the characters and places in his book. He is a graduate of Hobart College, where he received a bachelor’s degree in philosophy in 1975. He also studied Middle Eastern history at Franklin College in Lugano, Switzerland. In 1973, he was evacuated from Eilat, Israel, days before the beginning of the Yom Kippur War between Israel and Egypt. He fled to a kibbutz in Beersheba, where he was educated first hand about Israel's conflict with the Arab world. He is the father of three and grandfather of one (with two on the way). William and his wife Betsy split time between homes in Indiana, the Bahamas, and Canada. He is an avid fisherman and outdoorsman who kayaks, bikes, runs, and hikes as much as he can.

Book preview

BIGGERHEAD

BY

BETSY L. BROUGHER

&

WILLIAM J. ATKINS

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2012 Betsy L. Brougher and William J. Atkins

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

ISBN 13: 978 0615583648

Point Comfort Publishing, LLC

United States

http://williamjatkins.com

http://williamjatkins.wordpress.com

For John Stewart, Stephen Colbert and the Grand Old Party

PROLOGUE

Who the hell invited Dick Cheney on this huntin’ trip? whispered Rick Ferry as he approached the dead body of Senate Minority Leader Mitchell Mitch McDonald.

Governor Ferry had been enjoying a rewarding day of slaughter at Biggerhead Ranch, with fellow Republicans Paul Lyan and Mitch McDonald, when he heard a shot followed by an unusual wail, coming from where Mitch had wandered off to take a whiz. Ferry and Lyan jogged toward the area where they had last seen the senator.

Holy shit, someone shot him in the goddamn head! said Lyan.

Look. They got him with his pants down. This is the last thing I need right now: dead senator on Biggerhead Ranch with his dick hangin’ out. Paul, get over here and help me zip him up.

I refuse to touch a dead man's junk, Rick. The feds and the media are going to be all over this like white on Condoleezza Rice. I don't want my DNA anywhere near that body when the shit hits the fan.

Ferry slipped on his hunting glove, reached down, crammed Mitch's prick back into his pants, and zipped up his fly.

Who shot him? I thought we were the only ones hunting on the ranch today, said Lyan, in a voice several octaves higher than normal.

All I can think of is maybe one of my beano ranch hands is out huntin’ today. He probably ran when he saw what he done. They're not s’pose to hunt on the property, but them Mexicans love the taste of wild game, said Ferry.

Well, what are we going to do now? We’ve got to call the police, or something. We can’t take the fall for this, Rick, said Lyan, beginning to pace back and forth.

Let's think this through, Ferry said. We've been workin’ with Mitch and the Biggerhead bunch for almost a year. We know what kinda intel we got on Mitch, but there’s no telling what Mitch’s got on us. I’ll betch’ya he’s got recordings and notes that would look bad if they ever got out.

Rick, what the fuck are we going to do? We can’t just leave him here, can we? The coyotes will eat the son of a bitch before sunup. Lyan was losing his shit, making it even more difficult for Ferry to concentrate.

Let me think for it, I mean about it. I need time to think…, Ferry said, as he pondered what his daddy or Jesus might do in a situation like this.

Two of the most powerful and outspoken members of the GOP continued to debate their options as the sun set over Biggerhead Ranch.

CHAPTER ONE

ONE YEAR EARLIER

Biggerhead Ranch, located in north central Texas, is a sprawling sea of green and gold, also known affectionately as The Big Empty. Fields of dense thicket conceal even the most rotund hunters as they wait for unsuspecting white-tailed bucks, wild hogs, and turkeys to trot into their kill zones. The property has been in the Ferry family since the early eighties, when Old Man Ferry negotiated a long-term lease from an oilman who had gone bust. Everyone in the nearby town of Haskell agreed it was a shame he didn’t live to see his son, Rick, become governor of Texas.

Biggerhead was the governor's favorite place for entertaining friends, enemies, associates, and, of course, donors. Countless red-state Republicans had spilled the blood of Biggerhead wildlife while sucking down Budweisers and talking politics, prayer, and pussy.

Biggerhead Lodge sits in a clearing in the middle of the thousand acre ranch, guarded by a gaudy display of yard art. A statue of an African American lawn jockey greets visitors right next to a line of old-fashioned rocking chairs. A huge concrete replica of a twenty-nine point buck, shot through the heart with an arrow and gasping for his last breath, decorates the walkway up to the house. And finally, a ceramic wild hog with spurts of faux blood confirming a bullet between its eyes occupies a spot next to the boot scraper at the front door.

Mitch McDonald, the U.S. senate minority leader, loved to hunt at Biggerhead. He was unaware that the deer he shot during his last visit had been tranquilized and herded to within forty feet of him by Ferry's Mexican ranch hands. He had contacted Ferry a couple of weeks earlier with an unusual request. Mitch