Making Plans For Michael

By Nigel Parsons

Michael Pelton is a nice guy who has been pushed too far by his ex-wife Wednesday Brandt and her constant interference in a meaningful relationship between him and his daughter Rochelle. He determines to do something about it. With the assistance of a hacker named Dex, he installs several self-replicating spy programs into a laptop Christmas present for his daughter and starts reading all the emails that Wednesday sends and receives. He is initially shocked to discover the extent of her past and current planning against him. He decides to move from passive monitoring to a plan of active deterrent to prevent Wednesday from ever being able to exert any control over him again.

Wednesday’s brother is Angus, a convicted murderer, who hatches a brazen scheme to defraud Australian shareholders of money they don’t know they have. Angus needs his sister’s participation in his ‘Locksley’ plan as she is an Information Technology executive at ASIC. Her role will be to gather the target information, keep an ear to the ground to see if they have been detected and set up a fall guy. Initially, Wednesday makes it clear to her brother she does not want to be part of anything illegal. Angus gets out of jail on parole and he changes his name to Guru Angus. He and his gang move into the Butterfly Temple outside Lismore and stage a violent takeover of the commune and its current inhabitants. They begin turning the previously peaceful temple into the Butterfly Fortress.

Michael monitors Wednesday’s reluctance to join her brother’s fraud and realises she needs to be encouraged into the plan. He can only do this by destroying her carefully manicured reputation. He rigs a ballot and gets her electronically voted in as CEO of the RSPCAA. At Wednesday’s planned inauguration speech on the steps of the Sydney Town Hall, she arrives towing her dead pet dog on a leash behind her car which Michael had carefully placed there the previous evening. The Meat & Livestock Australia association are having a march past at the same time and a major central city riot breaks out. Wednesday is publicly shamed in the media and with her reputation now in tatters and her career in jeopardy she agrees to join Angus’ Locksley plan.

Locksley is designed to target shareholders who have at least $80,000 in stock that has not been transacted on for at least 10 years. The shareholders must also have been resident overseas for the same period. The goal is $10M Australian dollars. Angus puts the schedule in place and Locksley starts bringing home the cash.

Michael enlists the assistance of an old university acquaintance, Daisy Yung, an SS-Waffen, purple leather clad dominatrix with offices in Sydney and Hong Kong. She has embarrassing pictures of lawyers and Michael blackmails one of these lawyers to control the second signatory on the Locksley Caymans account.

Michael monitors the progress of Locksley and just before the scheme reaches the $10M target, he steals all the money and launders it through a Macau casino. He then packages up all the information he has gathered from Wednesday’s computer and sends it to the Police. Angus and his gang are arrested at the Butterfly Fortress in a debacle that kills several policemen. During the trial Wednesday turns against her brother saying she acted under duress given his previously violent nature. Angus attacks her and knocks her out. All of them end up with extended jail terms.

Jail is not good to Wednesday who ends up becoming Big-Red’s so called ‘Slut-Bitch’ and repeatedly tribbed on a nightly basis. She writes a best selling book about her experiences. Angus becomes a model prisoner and eventually gets out on a supervised day release scheme where he swims out to the ocean and is eaten by a shark.

With the proceeds of Locksley, Michael gives some of the money to the children of the woman Angus had murdered years before and purchases a house to give to Rochelle and her brother so they can fin

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nigel Parsons
• Release date: Feb 2, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310373268

Nigel Parsons

I'm in my early fifties and started recently writing. I like writing comedy, black satire that pokes fun at things like Political Correctness gone mad. I have lived quite a full life and have many experiences which naturally form part of my writing. Although being born in Australia, I have also lived in London, Seoul and am now a permanent resident of Hong Kong where I have been for the past 10 years.My books are a little outrageous, usually several people get killed in bizarre circumstances and there is a large element of revenge against bloated institutions, governments and the legal establishment.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

'Tell me all that you've thrown away

Find out games you don't wanna play'

All American Rejects - 'Dirty little secret'

I want to tell you about the worst day of my life, said Michael Pelton. It was not something he thought about regularly. Time had dulled the impact of that day such that it seemed almost surreal. Everything that subsequently had ever happened to him since then was almost an everyday experience. When he did think about that black day, it was the result of a mental prompting with similar such subjects coming up as a wager with drunken friends challenging each other for the most unfortunate moment in their own respective histories.

To date he was undefeated in that particular bet.

Michael was the proverbial nice guy. He was nice to girls to a point they truly believed he was gay or at least sitting on the fence and nice to guys up to a stage where they couldn't be bothered fighting him as there would be no kudos in it for them.

Now he thought the time was right to share the history with someone he thought would understand. James Bradbury, his best friend of three decades, apart from being self absorbed and insecure even in the business success that had defined his own existence, was the only real person that he could talk to on a confidential basis.

They had first become friends when both were working as Systems Engineers for a Japanese computer company in their Sydney office. Both had qualifications in Computing Science although from different institutions. The daily grind of their jobs primarily involved copying software from US companies and making it working on Japanese mainframes. It was then sold to customers at half the regular US price. They shared a love of music, composing and playing and had tried several times to form a band amongst their fellow office staff with little success. The difficulty was always finding a decent lead singer and a good drummer. Bass guitarists were found on almost every corner and almost anyone could play some catchy tune on a keyboard.

Their workplace was a boring as the computers of the day, no spinning things, no flashing lights, monochromatic green screens for the operators and the over powering noise of industrial strength air conditioning. It was a safe working environment and there had only been one accident that Michael could recall when a large mainframe computer had been placed on a floor, which had decided several days after installation that the weight imposed upon it was not structurally supported. It had crashed from the ninth floor taking several other floors and office staff with it on a one way trip to the basement. The insurance companies had fought over responsibility for several years thereafter. But generally working in computers was safe, if not damn monotonous. Hence their respective pursuits of more worldly passions.

Following their departure within the space of 12 months of each other, James had made a lot of money working for the right companies at the right times, particularly during the so-called 'dot com' bubble. What he lacked in personality and empathy for those less fortunate than himself he made up for in ability to pick and choose winning stocks and companies to work such that he was now comfortably retired. Bored beyond words and retired from a working life, he was now free to devote himself to the excesses of his spoilt brat daughters who thought as much of their own father as they would a credit card with no limit. And he loved them in his own particular fashion only because they needed him for it. James was also one of those guys who if they asked you whether you wanted to see a picture of their girlfriend, then you should say 'No'. If you said 'Yes', then it would be your fault as whatever was produced on his mobile phone would be guaranteed to shock you. You would normally find yourself viewing some poor quality homemade pornography.

James was also a chronic dope fiend. He could not sleep at night without sucking on several large bongs before retiring. His favourite bong was an image of ET, the Extra Terrestrial, from the movie of the same name, where you would suck the head of the alien whilst lighting the stash in something resembling the head of an oversize alien penis. Michael always found the image of a sweet children's alien transformed into something so demeaning a little disturbing.

The worst day of your life? Do I really want to hear this? James asked. You know I saw Wednesday on the street a couple of weeks ago. I am not sure she saw me, but I have to say that based upon what she looks like now, you really dodged a bullet.

Not sure whether you will or not, and I am not sure whether I really care much what you think as I am not asking you for justification of my actions thereafter, said Michael impatiently. But as you are my best friend then you will listen as I would to you. At the time this happened I had been married for the first time for around a year but I wasn't particularly happy. Contrary to this, Lindsay, my first wife, was very happy and I admit she tried her best on our combined meagre earnings to make a life for us. I felt I had rushed into marriage and hadn't sufficiently explored options of travel and work. I was also seeing Wednesday from the office. She was married herself and I felt there was little risk in an office fling. Plus she was very determined. I couldn't say 'No'.

Yes, but when you ended up with Wednesday you shagged each other rotten for the first year of marriage. When we went away with you guys on that joint holiday together at Noosa, the guests on the floors above and below you complained the entire time about the goddam noise.

Michael shot back, Well that was almost as bad as when we went away with you and your wife and you decided out of feelings of guilt to confess to a week long relationship with a Mexican hooker with ginormous breasts. I was never sure why you decided to do that. Especially in front of us. Kind of put a little bit of a damper on the weekend I must say. But allow me to continue. The worst day of my life was when within the space of 2 hours both of them, told me they were pregnant. He paced the floor searching for his next words. Strangely enough, I did not get a lot of work done on that particular day.

James choked on the beer he was swilling. The coughing spurt that erupted made him grab for ET again. Hold on for a minute, he spluttered.

Whilst his friend regained his composure Michael reflected on the setting he had chosen to disclose his revelations to his friend. Looking out over the sun setting against the backdrop of the Sydney Harbour Bridge from his friend’s rooftop patio attached to his Darling Harbour penthouse was the most placid and calming environment he could have envisaged. He still believed that Australia was the best place in the world to live, but it was becoming way too insular. He wished he still lived here, but the tax rates were a killer. Being based in Hong Kong with the highest marginal rate of 17% with no GST and flying down regularly for business was a much better alternative if you were lucky enough to wrangle it.

Knowing you as I do, I will assume that the underlying facts of getting two women pregnant at the same time were not in dispute, James said as he continued to gasp.

Correct. I was not really on my best behaviour at that point. Which was probably a bit of an understatement, given his propensity since 17, to copulate with everything meeting the basic criteria of two tits, a hole and a heartbeat. Even at University where jealous peers updated his score with indelible ink on the lift doors of the laboratory and lecture halls. He tried to justify this irresponsible behaviour on repeated occasions by the fact that most of the women he was with were very beautiful and that was true. They were attracted to him often more so than he was to them. They simply targeted each other. There was a large element of truth in that he was an easy picking for girls with a large libido.

Best behaviour? Mate, that's a slight understatement.

Well the rest of that particular day is pretty much a blank apart from the fact that I sat in the park adjoining the office for most of that day. What happened afterwards is probably the greatest mistake I have ever made in my life. I knew that Lindsay being a good Catholic girl would never consent to an abortion so I told Wednesday that if she had one then I would leave my wife and be with her. My mistake was in believing that she could ever forgive me for insisting on her doing that. From that moment onwards whenever she saw my son Luke, she hated me. And therefore the greatest mistake I made in my life was thinking she could ever forget or forgive me for that.

Sounds perfectly understandable to me the way you put it. Plus you made your own bed there. Let's face facts. You knew she was a lot smarter and more determined than you when you married her. In summary you were pretty dumb.

"Thanks for your support. And yes, what you say is perfectly accurate although in my defence I never imagined when we got married that all that energy she put into our relationship would be actively turned against me when we separated and divorced. She was the one that came up with three promises concerning Rochelle when we separated:

1. Never ask Rochelle about the other parent

2. Never ask Rochelle to keep secrets from the other parent

3. Never bad-mouth the other parent to Rochelle

It all sounded very reasonable to me. But it never worked out like that."

At the time Michael was of the honourable and quite naive opinion they would mutually respect these three commitments concerning Rochelle. Certainly he followed it to the letter. To show his further naivety he believed Wednesday initially had the same intention, at least until the decree absolute was provided by the Court. But shortly thereafter, evidence quickly surfaced to show her zero intention of ever following any of them. He still thought of these as model concepts for mutual parental in dealing with a child from a broken marriage, but they obviously work best when followed by both mother and father.

Given what I know it sounds pretty typical of Wednesday, but I'm not quite sure why you are telling me all of this. It’s really no surprise to me. I always thought she was a pushy bitch. So why are you telling me?

Michael pondered his friend’s question. I'm telling you this as a sounding board for what I feel I have to do. What indeed were friends for if not to provide a sounding board for other friend's problems? They were there to listen and to be sympathetic, but really there wasn't going to be much in the way of proactive good ideas that would resolve the difficulties of dealing with a bitter ex-wife who was apparently determined to cut him off from his own daughter and to ensure that she would never have to confront a situation in which she would ever have to meet or deal with Luke or his mother again, even in a polite social setting.

Michael firmed his resolve that if things were going to get settled in a proper manner here he would have to take matters into his own hands. He was sure that Wednesday was up to her regular tricks and determined he had to take control of the situation to ensure any possible outcome would be in his favour. But to do so he knew he needed something more crucial than anything else. Detailed and specific information about what his estranged wife was thinking and doing was going to be essential. He would be unable to move forward with any planning of his own without it. I've been screwed over by her for the last time and I'm tired of always looking over my shoulder worrying about what is coming next. This is going to end.

CHAPTER TWO

'The eyes of a lover that hit like heat,

You know she's a little bit dangerous'

Roxette - 'Dangerous'

Wednesday Buxton made it a rule to never trust anybody. This came from an inbuilt paranoia born of countless X-Files re-runs. Whenever she had doubts about the way this attitude made her treat others, she always reminded herself, If there is nothing to hide, why are they hiding it? If the proverbial THEY weren't out to get you, then it was only a matter of time before they successfully would. Always better to be the victor than the victim. David Duchovny taking out chain-smoking, half-alien big brothers was what life was all about. This paranoia drove her to deal with people the way she believed they would surely be treating her if she just did nothing. There was no concept of people just being nice for the sake of it. She had no remorse for anyone apart from her own blood relatives. Within that group there were those who were potentially embarrassing, so she successfully hid them from her public profile but supported them clandestinely as much as she was able.

In other respects there was no doubt Wednesday was singular and very smart individual. Double degrees in Mathematics and a Masters in Finance. However what she possessed in theory she lacked in practical common sense. The economic aspects of Merchant Banking and Information Technology Management were well within her grasp, but she was completely inept when it came something like changing a flat tire. Not that she felt that changing a car tire was a skill she would ever need. There were others far less talented whose role in the scheme of things was to perform those menial tasks. She could pay someone else for that. It was the privilege that her position afforded her in the bigger picture. There was simply no practicality reason in learning how to do such things. Michael used to call her 'SMART-DUMB'.

On a professional level Wednesday was born to manage large numbers of others. She was in command and everyone she worked with knew it. And she rightly deserved it. She was an expert in delegation and office politics. She had sufficient self-confidence to be dismissive of anyone who did not think the same way as her and arrogant enough to believe the success of her subordinates was hers alone. She had learned early the political lessons and benefits of being expert at upwardly managing. To those she reported to, she always made sure she came out looking great.

She had never fired anyone and whether she believed those who worked for her admired and looked up to her or not, she simply did not care. It was irrelevant and unimportant. If someone did not fit her expectations or somehow challenged her she would quickly transfer them to another department. They were then someone else's problem. Dissenting views were not tolerated. In short whilst she didn't actually achieve very much she was so good at office politics that it really didn't matter and no one ever had anything concrete concerning her lack of achievement to pin on her. It was always easy to look sharp when you didn't actually do anything productive.

She prided herself on rarely if ever losing her temper in public and had a particularly nasty skill of cutting people down with dismissive one liners that sounded fine at the time until you realised five minutes after the meeting closed she had actually insulted you.

She made it a point to never discuss her family with others. This was a family that regularly indulged in illicit drugs and took to marijuana so often the kids believed it was the norm in every family. The long-term result was a brother, Angus Buxton, was a convicted murderer with separate charges for Grievous Bodily Harm (GBH). Despite Wednesday being horrified at what her brother had done, she was aware this sort of information might be used by people to her disadvantage. Smashing a baseball bat full into the face of a friend who had generously provided free lodging, but mistakenly provoked her brother by mouthing the words 'Baby' one evening was not considered the act of a normal, rational human being. That was something she needed to keep quiet about. It was not really the way to resolve conflict in an office environment.

She made promises to people and then broke on them on the basis on the strength of their position relative to hers. Similarly, she saw anyone who went out of their way to cooperate with her as a sign of their weakness and mentally marked it down as such should any future action against them be necessary.

A friend of Michael's once politically termed her a Champagne Socialist. It was such an accurate description it stuck like super glue and spread like a plague of cockroaches in Maroochydore on a warm summer evening. She admitted the term was probably apt but resented the fact that anyone could possess a negative opinion of her. She never voted anything other than the strongest left wing party in power at the time despite living in a prestigious multi-million house close to the city and enjoying the luxury of driving the 15 minutes to and from work in a high end Lexus. Whilst she wanted the rest of her welfare recipient family to live off the public purse, the reality was she simply had nothing in common with 99% of Labor party supporters. Going against the grain when there was nothing disadvantageous in it was where she felt comfortable. There would never be a unanimous vote on anything Wednesday was involved with. She would vote 'No' against the rest of a room simply to ensure contention.

Wednesday had realised only after two walks down the aisle that her perfect partner was a domesticated househusband who would be more than happy in the kitchen and doing the household ironing. The latter a chore she abhorred to the point of outsourcing the task completely.

Tommy Fuchsia was her current partner of 11 years. It was often said he had the most suitable face for radio. He met the househusband criteria perfectly. The only problem Wednesday had subsequently discovered in having completely pliable domesticated male as a life partner, was the difficulty to getting anything other than instant agreement on anything requiring intelligent discussion or debate. She always had thought you needed to be careful about what you wished for as in this case she did indeed get it. Tommy was always in complete agreement with everything she said. He simply never had an original opinion on anything of importance nor had he ever really thought it necessary with Wednesday. It was a bit like being a cruise missile; someone else had pre-programmed it so why worry about the final destination? Tommy had witnessed first hand how she silently and calculatingly dealt with dissent in her personal and professional life and was not keen to be on the receiving end. At the present time she had fooled him into thinking he needed her more than she did him. While this reduced domestic conflict to zero, his complete lack of any internal masculinity ensured no originality. At least until he knew exactly which way the wind was blowing when he could pipe up with similar, agreeable comments. Unfortunately having a partner who only ever agreed with everything you said simply made Wednesday's underlying paranoia even more acute and Tommy's belief in his own complete inadequacy grow.

Wednesday felt that most discussions between them were like taking the family dog 'Chop' for a walk. 'Chop' was an aggressive blue cattle dog that had seen better days but like most dogs was always happy and excited to go out sniffing butts of other canines, signaling his constant agreement by his happily wagging tail. The happily wagging his tail of Chop made the analogy to Tommy seem even rawer.

That day Tommy was already at home at his usual post in the kitchen, when he heard Wednesday open the front door.

Hi babe, I'm starving what's for dinner? she asked.

I'm nearly finished. It's a low cholesterol pasta stir-fry. Your favourite, Tommy replied as he wiped his hands on the surface of a new pastel apron he had just purchased during his lunch break earlier that day.

Well I'm so glad that I've got you Babe. The one bright spot in my day.

What happened?

Nothing really. Michael emailed me today with a request to have Rochelle for 2 weeks during the summer holidays as he wants to plan something for them to do together.

Well that sounds reasonable.

You're not fucking serious right?

Tommy quickly back pedaled, No, no, of course not, just joking.

There is simply no way that our daughter is going to spend two weeks with her asshole father and his stupid family at Newcastle over Christmas. No way at all. He is a terrible influence on Rochelle and I am so tired of her coming back home talking about 'her brother' for the following 6 months after she has done a Disneyland holiday with the two of them.

Well, technically Rochelle is an only child. Did he say he was going to take Rochelle to Newcastle?

No, but that's probably what will happen.

So what are you going to do then?

That will be business as usual. Stall on his demands for her schedule for the next 9 months right up until a couple of weeks before the holidays start and then provide a couple of days here and there that are going to be totally inconvenient for him. Plus tell him that the rest of her time is completely booked solid. I know Michael, he will complain, but he certainly won't go to the Family Court over it. And anyway if he does, Rochelle is old enough now to be able to say where she wants to spend her time. I'm confident that both Michael and I know what the outcome of a case like that will be. Anyway you know what he did to me and I will never forgive him for that.

Yes I am well aware of what he did when you first met and had that abortion as I am also acutely aware of what you have done to the relationship between him and Rochelle. Babe, don't you kind of think that maybe it is time to simply move on?

Who the fuck are you to suggest something like that, Wednesday was furious.

Well I just don't like to see you get stressed out about something like this. After all it might be in Rochelle's interest to have a decent relationship with her father. I am not her real father and when I have spoken to Michael on the odd occasion he seems like a reasonable guy. Finally you did marry him and you two stayed together for 8 years.

He is a dog and Rochelle has her father figure with you now anyway. None of this is for me anyway. What is best for my daughter is for me to be happy and what makes me happy is for her to have minimal contact with her father. And on the other side, he could make the effort if he really wanted so it is up to him but I just don't see why I should go out of my way to make it any easier. I admit, I've just created a challenging environment but it is not insurmountable.

OK Babe, whatever you say.

Let's take Chop for a walk before dinner. After we've eaten I want to show you a new toy that I picked up at a new sex shop in the city today. And from the opinions I have heard being expressed this evening you definitely need a good strong ramrodding lesson. I think you need to be punished for your dissent tonight.

Tommy gave a thin smile while Chop, who had seen better years, wagged his tail affectionately.

CHAPTER THREE

'But every time you say you're just fine,

you need a little bit

So you can impress everybody, you're still in a daze'

Spiderbait - 'Shazam'

When Wednesday first suggested Michael buy his daughter Rochelle a new laptop for her birthday upcoming in August, he initially baulked at the idea. Why did every child require a new $1,500 dollar accessory every year until they went to University or joined the workforce and could then buy their own? Then again, why did people demand and pay premiums for the newest mobile phone that had exactly the same function as the previous models still on the market at half the price? When he was child they were forced to go the school or local library and do research by taking home endless textbooks that weighed a ton and made mothers worry their kids would end up like Quasimodo. Struggling home with a brown-shelled school case containing the nights homework was actually pretty heavy. But a collection of a half-ton volume of Encyclopedia Britannica lining the shelf in pride of place in a living room used to be an educational status symbol and a great place to plagiarize from.

Purchasing the latest and greatest laptop every year appeared to be a scam keeping IT manufacturers on the road to profitability until their shareholders revolted at the lack of any technical progress and sold the resulting green shoots from the stump of the