Merry Men

By Bryan Thompson

Mike Burns is a predictable, obsessive-compulsive, asthmatic banker whose steady and unchanging world is thrown for a loop after his bank is taken over by a major banking institution. When a new ego-maniac boss takes charge and begins laying off members of the old institution, Mike snaps and forms a small team of misfits.

Now, the team of misfits (including a homemade robot named "Artoodeetoo") form a plan to hack into the databases of each branch of the corporation and rob their new boss blind. Their plan is unstoppable until their paths cross with a dangerous ex-employee with a far deadlier agenda.

MERRY MEN is a quirky story about misfits, terrible bosses, and bank robberies like you've never seen.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryan Thompson
• Release date: Apr 30, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476015088

Book preview

Part One

Misfits

Chapter 1

Press down, inhale, breathe out, repeat.

THE MAN INSIDE THE ELEVATORS closed his eyes in a grimace and held the bright blue inhaler inches away from his lips. His body swayed back and forth as he anticipated the automatic open doors and the office hallway beyond.

God help me, he whispered, though no one else shared the space with him.

He coughed and placed the inhaler back inside his pocket. He then patted down the breast pocket of his jacket as if searching himself. There was nothing.

The door of the elevator opened, and Mike Burns stepped into the office space where dozens of cubicle workers attempted to look busy. Most did smile, and they were genuine smiles. And then they looked busy again.

➵

Several offices down, an old television showcased a black and white scene of an old bank robbery flick.Why don’t ya make yourself useful and throw the money in the bag! the black-and-white gangster resembling John Dillinger said. In typical 1930’s fashion, he held a large gun aimed at the people he was speaking to.

On the screen, the black-and-white bank tellers raised their hands in terror and ran to do exactly as he had instructed.

The screen faded to a well-worn VHS copy of of a blue screen and a white-haired business man in suspenders. "Well, you’re the banker! What would you do if you were on the receiving end of that gun?" he asked. In the next part of your video training, we are going to dive into a crime scene that nobody wants to think about, but every bank employee needs to be prepared for.

Off screen, a young man and woman kissed each other like one was leaving town for a decade. They caressed each other with an intensity that might have belonged in the black-and-white gangster movie they weren’t watching.

Behind the passionate young lovers was a large window, marked every ten feet by a circular speaker and a large metal drawer. Sitting at one of these speakers was a young man attempting not to look distracted as he handed a wad of cash to the driver outside the window.

➵

Mike walked across the open floor. He passed eleven waiting in teller lines – all of them well past the age of seventy. Mike passed the tellers and misplaced accountants.

When he reached the door leading to the drive-up room, he froze. He looked down at his hand and tried to stop it from shaking. He closed his eyes, placed his hand in his right pocket and gripped the bright blue cylinder he had taken out moments before. After a moment of consideration, he relaxed his grip on the inhaler. He opened the door.

The door opened on the young couple, exchanging rich saliva and groping for each other. All at once, they took note of their new visitor, and jumped back from each other. The young man twitched. The young woman did not.

Mike blinked twice and twitched the right corner of his mouth. This was his customary habit before confronting anyone. He reached again for his inhaler and then stopped himself. Then, he put his best fake smile on.

Melissa? he asked.

Melissa, the young woman, eyed him and smacked twice on the wad of Double Bubble in her mouth. Yeah?

Can I have a word with you? Mike asked.

Melissa stared for a moment and said nothing. Then, she blinked and waited another long moment. She lifted her eyebrows ten seconds into this as though he should have received a response by this point.

In my office? Mike asked, gesturing to the hallway behind him.

Melissa rose with a grunt and walked toward the door, her hands in her pockets and her head slouched low. She walked passed Mike without giving him a second glance. Mike wiped his brow with the handkerchief in his breast pocket, pushed his glasses up his nose, and then swiped the inhaler from his right pocket and breathed in. He pointed a shaky finger at the nervous young man. Strike two for you, Mr. Lewis!

The young man, Mr. Lewis, nodded with shame and held his hands in the air in a desperate surrender.

Mike rolled his eyes and shut the door. The young teller at the window closed his eyes and thank God for small favors.

Chapter 2

Mike excused himself to use the restroom, then walked back to his office to greet his troublemaker. He was greeted with a thick cloud of hazy smoke. He coughed at once, waving the smoke until it cleared in time to see its culprit sitting in his chair

Melissa, Mike said between bouts of coughing and waving with his hands, you know there is a strict No-Smoking policy in the building!

Melissa took a long drag from her Newport and snubbed the remaining cig into the mug on the desk. Mike frowned.

Sorry, she said.

Melissa?

What? she asked, those eyebrows raised again.

Can I have my chair back now?

Melissa rolled her eyes and rose from the desk chair, heaved a sigh, then walked to the guest seats.

Mike walked to his desk and sat down, folding his hands in front of him and glancing once at the ever-christened mug of coffee and wet nicotine. This brought a disgusted frown. He faced Melissa. Smoking? Really?

I guess I was just nervous, said Melissa.

Mike reached in his desk drawer for a can of Aerosol and began spraying in her direction. "You know better, Melissa! I know you know better! And I’m allergic!"

Sorry!

Mike closed his eyes in a grimace and took a deep breath. Now...

Now what?

Mike leaned forward. Melissa, I’m afraid I have no choice but to let you go.

Let me go?

You’re making out with a man in the Drive-Up window!

But, Mike…

I don’t like doing this, Melissa, said Mike, "but this is not the first conversation we’ve had about this."

He could feel the muscles in his neck tighten. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out in a rapid nervous fashion. He continued. Between Elaine and myself, we have discussed this with you three times since you’ve been here.

Does this mean I’m fired? she asked as she sat up straight.

You’ve been here three weeks, Melissa! Three weeks! Mike held out the first three fingers of his right hand for emphasis.

I don’t remember anyone talking to me about a PDA policy, said Melissa.

Look around you, Melissa! Mike said. "Do you see anybody else making out here? And besides, you don’t even work in the Drive-Up room! I only knew you were there today because six people reported it!"

At this, Melissa stood up. "Oh no, you are not firing me today!"

Workers now congregated outside the office.

Mike closed his eyes. He gripped the inhaler in his pocket but resisted the urge to bring it out. Melissa, you need to calm down.

"No! I will not calm down! You cannot fire me! I have worked my butt off for this company!"

More employees now hovered outside the window.

"Melissa, I’m sorry, but you are violating company policy. Public displays of affections are not appropriate professional activities. It’s completely inappropriate and provocative!"

"Provocative? Are you hitting on me, Mr. Burns?" she asked in a raised voice.

The employees outside winced. A few chuckled.

"No!" Mike said at once. His legs were now twitching and shaking. That is NOT, he swallowed and closed his eyes to calm himself. "That is not what I was talking about!"

"This is not cool, man!" said Melissa, who stood towering above Mike. "Not cool! I will report you for sexual harassment right now!"

Mike glanced at the dozen workers gathered outside. He frowned and motioned for them to leave, waving them away. Then, he looked up at Melissa. For a moment, he could have sworn she was smiling. Melissa, I wasn’t trying to harass you!

"These people all heard it!" she said, pointing to the workers on the other side of the glass door.

Mike glanced at them again. They were still there.

Look, Melissa, Mike said, closing his eyes. I’m not going to fire you today. Okay?

Melissa brought her tone down. Yeah?

Let’s, he closed his eyes in defeat, just call this a warning.

Melissa sat down. Okay.

Mike took in two deep breaths. He opened his eyes and smiled as though he were offering her life insurance. I apologize for the misunderstanding. I hope you really didn’t think...

Think what?

I’m just sorry, okay? he said, closing his eyes again.

Melissa smiled an almost-charming smile. Okay.

Please pay attention to the company policy next time.

All right, Mister Burns, she said as she rose from her seat.

And Melissa?

She turned around. The workers outside were beginning to file out.

No smoking in the building.

Melissa rolled her eyes and exited the office.

Mike’s smile fell to a battered frown. He looked again at the defamed mug of coffee on his desk. He pressed the intercom button on the desk phone.

Leslie? he said into the phone.

"Yes?" said the receptionist’s voice from inside the intercom.

Can you have Larry empty the cup on my desk and throw it away?

"I’ll have him get on it," said Leslie.

And have him disinfect my office chairs, said Mike. I’ll be back. I have to go home and change.

There was a moment of silence at this, and then, All right.

Mike pressed the intercom button again to end the call and looked again at the ruined mug on the desk. He shook his head and frowned.

It was such a nice cup, he said to the empty room, then breathed into his inhaler.

Chapter 3

Ed Fleeceman looked at the clock in the back of the conference room. His wrinkled fingers drummed on the mahogany table and the white-headed business man gave a nervous smile to the six professionals around the table.

The forty-something business man sitting across from him looked at his watch, then back at Ed. He shrugged. We’re just waiting for you, Ed.

Michael will be here in just a minute, said Ed.

The professionals who worked with Ed returned his nervous smile. The three that didn’t work with him did not. Ed rubbed his hands together, a nervous disorder he had picked up in the Korean War and had held onto ever since. He scratched his white wrinkled head and looked back to the clock in the back of the room.

The conference room looked like most of the other offices on the second floor of Petroli Federal. Glass windows overlooked the Portland skyline in the distance and the glass on the other side overlooked the central office cubicles.

I apologize, Mr. Roebuck, said Ed. It’s not like Mr. Burns to be late for this sort of thing. I’m sure he has a good reason.

This was when the glass door to Ed’s left opened and Mike Burns stepped inside with his hands in the air in a pre-defensive gesture.

I’m sorry, Ed, said Mike. I had an emergency.

Ed furrowed his eyebrows. "Did you change clothes?"

Mike shook his head and closed his eyes. Long story.

"We’ll talk about it later, Michael, said Ed with his teeth gritted. Right now I want you to say hello to some new friends of ours." Ed gestured toward the conference table.

Mike turned and grinned at the executives in the room. Elaine, the branch manager, smiled. Lewis, a young African-American sitting across from her nodded once and widened his eyes. The rest made no response.

Sorry, gentlemen, said Mike, nodding. Then, jumping back and catching himself, he said, "And ladies! Ladies and gentlemen!"

Let’s get started, shall we? asked Mr. Roebuck, the fortysomething businessman Mike didn’t know. He stood up and walked toward the front of the table. We have a lot of ground to cover in a short time. Mergers are time-consuming matters.

Merger? asked Mike before sitting in his chair across from Ed.

Yes, said Ed as he pressed a button on the PowerPoint remote control he held in his hand. A 60-inch LCD television behind him switched from a logo of Petroli Federal to a bright white background with a new crisp and corporate logo of a rival company taking up the center space. Michael, Elaine, and Lewis, if you’ll recall, some months back we discussed a possible merge with RoeBank.

Mike glanced toward Elaine and Lewis, then toward Mr. Roebuck.

Stu Roebuck called me late last night with a big announcement, said Ed as he motioned to Mr. Roebuck. I’ll let their team tell you about it.

Stu Roebuck ran his fingers through his picture perfect head of hair. He smiled a charming grin that managed to get smiles from everyone in the room.

Thanks, Ed, said Roebuck, pacing around the room with a swagger. He then proceeded to walk to the front of the room and stood in front of the television screen. I called Ed last night to let him know that RoeBank is very interested in acquiring Petroli Federal. Since my great-grandfather began Roebuck and Sons almost ninety years ago, the Roebucks have been committed to family. And family is what we want to be with you.

Mike looked at Ed with his jaw open, then took a hit from his inhaler.

We know it’s a bit subtle, continued Roebuck, especially since we have done little more than mention the possibility over the last six months. But, the local business scene of Portland is dwindling. Frankly, Oregon’s economy is sinking, and it’s getting harder for small businesses to stay afloat. We all know the potential of layoffs that lies before us in this shaky economy. And I’m here to tell you, it’s going to get worse before it gets better. You need a source larger than yourself to make it through.

Mike looked down at the mahogany table and closed his eyes three times in rapid succession. He then looked up, took a deep breath, and said, Um, I’m sorry. With all due respect, Mr. Roebuck, one of Petroli Federal’s biggest selling points is that we’re ‘the community bank that lives for the community.’ I mean, that’s who we are. For a giant like RoeBank to come in and take that over, we lose at least a third of our small businesses.

Roebuck nodded. I understand it’s a stretch, Michael, but you will gain at least a third of new businesses and chains that are already banking across the country with RoeBank. I’m willing to bet that at least half of that third will make their way back within a year.

Mike looked again at Ed with a nervous twitch. Ed didn’t look back. Mike took a breath from his inhaler and laid it on the table in front of him. He looked at Roebuck. I can respect and appreciate that, sir, but…

Roebuck interrupted. Mr. Burns, this is a natural part of the buyout process. It’s natural to have questions and reservations. But, here’s the thing: with us, you won’t have to worry about layoffs that will surely approach you within the next two months on your own. Roebuck grabbed the PowerPoint remote from the table and pressed a button. The screen behind him now changed to a graph showing lines rising and falling with corresponding numbers.

As you can see, said Roebuck, pointing to one of the descending lines, most of your local banks, including Petroli Federal, Bank of Hillsboro, and Security Trust of Oregon City, are declining in business accounts. While ‘living for the community’ may be a catchy slogan, it’s not accurate with how most local companies are banking and stocking. In fact, RoeBank is one of the top competitors in the nation. I don’t need to tell you that. You already know it. You’re in the banking business. With that, Roebuck gestured toward the rising line on the graph. Then he clicked a button on the remote and the screen changed to a green backdrop with a shiny logo of RoeBank next to an old and amateur logo of Petroli Federal Bank.

Mike loosened his tie and swallowed. His hands shook beneath the table and he eyed the blue inhaler in front of him.

Look, Roebuck said, it may be harder to wrap your heads around this with me standing here talking about it, so here’s a little visualization as to how smoothly this transition will be.

Roebuck pressed a button on the PowerPoint remote and the screen behind him faded to black and then faded to a white background with a glass piggy bank in the center of the screen.

On the screen, the piggy bank grew smaller as the camera zoomed out. Toy piano music played in the background as the deep voice of Harrison Ford said, You work hard for your money.

A giant piggy bank fell next to the smaller one, and both banks shook on impact. Harrison Ford’s voice continued, That’s why in this shaky economy, it’s important for you to know what’s happening to it…and where it’s going.

At this point in the video, a hammer came smashing down onto the small piggy bank, and chunks of glass and coins exploded into every direction.

"When you leave your account in the hands of RoeBank," said Harrison Ford, you leave your worries at the door of an institution small businesses have relied on since nineteen twenty-six.

The Petroli executives around the table jumped as a hammer on the screen fell onto the larger bank, crushing it to thousands of pieces. Coins and glass flew across the screen. The image grew smaller as the camera zoomed out. A man in coveralls walked onto the screen with a broom, sweeping the coins together. As the camera continued to zoom out, the screen revealed a large stainless steel vault.

Harrison Ford’s voice continued as the man in coveralls swept coins into the vault door. RoeBank has survived the Great Depression. We’ve survived the Dot Com Crash. And with our commitment to small businesses, we will survive in these tough economic times.

As Ford finished the line, the coveralls man swept the last of the cash into the vault, closed the door, and turned the wheel.

Ford continued, So leave your worries at the door of someone you can trust.

The screen faded to white as the Petroli Federal logo appeared.

Petroli Federal…

The logo spins until it becomes the RoeBank logo.

Is now part of the RoeBank family.

The logo disappeared and was replaced by the words, Work Easier.

And as the screen faded to black, Ford echoed the words on the screen. Oregon, it’s time to work easier.

The screen turned back to the shiny RoeBank logo and the house lights went up in the conference room.

Elaine Donnelly furrowed her eyebrows and said, I have a question.

Shoot, said Roebuck, nodding once in her direction.

How would this affect our jobs?

Roebuck smiled. Good question, Ms. Donnelly. He paced to the side. The RoeBank merger would leave your jobs in tact with one exception. He gestured toward Ed Fleeceman, who now stood up.

Ed smiled and nodded toward his faithful workers. Thank you, Mr. Roebuck. The only position to change will be mine. As you all know, I have put in more than forty years to this company, and I’m excited to see it flourish into something bigger than I ever dreamed.

Mike cocked his head in confusion. His breathing grew heavier and he dragged from the inhaler.

Ed continued. I’ve been leaning toward retirement for some time now. I will be leaving the company at the end of the month. Mr. Roebuck will head all Petroli Federal offices as President and CEO of RoeBank.

Mike glared at the old man. Ed! I know we’ve discussed mergers before, but we should probably discuss this a little further before we take some drastic action like this. Don’t you think? He glanced back at Roebuck, who continued to look at Ed.

It’s already happened, Mike, said Ed, nodding slowly. I signed the papers this morning.

Mike stood up and slammed his fist on the table, and then immediately brought them to his chest as he recoiled in pain. No! He realized everyone was now staring at him. I’m sorry, he said. He turned to Ed, Ed, why didn’t you mention any of this in our last board meeting?

It’s a spur of the moment decision, Mike, said Ed. You’re in better hands with Mr. Roebuck than you ever were with me.

But we don’t even know what they’ve offered, said Elaine.

Ed smiled and gestured back toward Roebuck.

Roebuck returned the smile and leaned over the conference table as if speaking in code. We’ve offered Petroli Federal fifteen million dollars.

The room fell silent. Mike dropped his pen, then reached for his inhaler and breathed in twice.

The announcement becomes official at the end of the day, said Roebuck. We’ll be meeting with all the head officers at four this afternoon. Then, Roebuck placed his hands on Mike’s shoulders and rubbed them. We’re going to make a great team, guys.

Mike looked straight ahead and said nothing. He did manage to keep his hand gripped around his inhaler.

Chapter 4

The automatic gate of the West View Parking Garage across the street from Petroli Federal Bank opened and a grey Toyota Camry raced out of the lot as though it were dodging bullets.

Mike Burns looked straight ahead and gritted his teeth, unable to hide his anger well. He dragged from his inhaler and coughed. With his left hand, he gripped the steering wheel of the Camry; with his right hand, he dropped the inhaler into the passenger seat and loosened his tie.

He took the I-205 exit toward the Portland International Airport and drove like a drag racer.

He looked into his rearview mirror to see red and blue lights coming from the vehicle behind. Mike closed his eyes for a second and slammed his hands onto the steering wheel before coming to a stop along the shoulder of the Interstate.

He sat for a minute blinking in mad repetition and breathing into his inhaler. He opened the glove box and removed several documents and a small bottle of hand sanitizer. He picked the documents up by the corners as though there were termites on them, then dropped them into his lap and squirted hand sanitizer onto his palms and rubbed them together.

The state trooper approached his window and tapped on the glass. Mike rolled down his window and looked at the officer without saying a word.

Care to explain yourself? the officer asked in a dry tone.

Mike heaved a sigh and handed the officer his license and registration before squirting another drop of hand sanitizer into his palms. I’m sorry, officer, he said, I don’t usually do this. It’s been a rough day and I’m running late to pick my brother-in-law up from the airport.

The officer took the documents from Mike’s hands and rolled his eyes. Oh, he said with zero expression. Well in that case, I’ll forget the whole thing.

Mike lifted his eyes. Really?

The officer displayed no expression as he returned Mike’s look. No. He returned to the red and blue lights behind.

Mike grabbed his cell phone and dialed his home number.

"Mike?" Cynthia asked from the other end of the line.

Yeah, honey, said Mike, look, I am running a little behind schedule. Can you call your brother and tell him I’m running a few minutes late?

"Behind schedule? Mike, What happened?"

I just got pulled over, said Mike.

"What?" asked Cynthia.

I got pulled over, said Mike.

"By the police??" Cynthia asked, still in shock.

Yes, said Mike. I had a long...

The officer tapped on Mike’s window with his license and registration.

Look, said Mike, I’ll explain later. The officer’s back.

"But, Mike, you..." she said.

I can’t talk now. I’ll call you back! With that, Mike pressed a button on his phone, threw it into the passenger seat, and rolled his window down.

Mr. Burns, said the officer. Can you step out of your car for a second?

Mike closed his eyes. Is there a problem, officer?

Just step out, sir. I need to see something.

Mike opened the door to the Camry and stepped outside. The officer held the driver’s license next to Mike’s face. He studied the two faces.

I looked back into our databases. From what I’m seeing here, you’ve never had so much as a warning in your twenty-five years on the road, said the officer.

Mike nodded. That’s correct, sir. He blinked twice.

The officer looked at Mike’s face again. You want to tell me what causes a squeaky clean person like yourself to go ninety in a seventy-five zone on the fly like that?

I’m sorry, officer, Mike said catching his breath. I don’t know what got into me. Honestly.

The officer, who did not appear convinced, tore the citation loose from his pad and handed it to Mike. His eyes did not move. Don’t let it happen again, the officer said. Ever.

Mike nodded as though twenty gallons of Red Bull were coursing through his veins. Yes, sir. Never again, sir.

The officer’s gaze lingered a few seconds longer, then he stepped toward the flashing lights of his own vehicle. Mike breathed into his trusty inhaler and pulled back onto the road.

Chapter 5

Cynthia Burns took a sip of Merlot and swallowed. She smiled but said nothing. Mike looked only at his plate of roast beef. Aaron, Alexander, and Elizabeth followed suit around the dining table.

The Burns family dining table indulged its five regulars and two guests in the quiet room lit by candles and dim lighting from the bulbs overhead. Chris Botti’s trumpet filled the background at twenty-three decibels. The light blue walls gave a graying tint to the walls and for all intents and purposes gave an almost restaurant quality, minus the noises of conversation.

Gerald and Julia DuPont smiled in uniform fashion every couple of minutes.

Cynthia broke the silence. So, how was Cancun?

Oh, wonderful, said Gerald with his fake smile. We had a great time. Great to get away and relax.

You should take a cruise there sometime, said Julia, smiling her fakest.

Well, said Cynthia, who also knew how to fake-smile, we’ll have to figure out some other way to get there. Mike gets motion sickness.

I could probably handle it, said Mike without looking up.

Cynthia looked across the table and furrowed her eyebrows. Really?

Mike looked up from his plate for the first time. Sure. Maybe next summer.

Cynthia held her mouth open for a moment. What has gotten into you today?

What do you mean?

You never showed any interest in a cruise before, said Cynthia.

Maybe I just never gave the idea a chance before, said Mike, taking a bite of roast beef.

How fast were you going today, anyway? asked Cynthia.

Ninety in a seventy-five, said Mike.

What? said Aaron, looking up from his plate for the first time. "You were