Harmony County

2011 & 2009 Winner of "Best Humor Column" awarded by the SC Press Association

Death and taxes

with one comment

Oh Joy! Tomorrow is everyone’s favorite day of the year. It is Tax Day! It is the day we thank Uncle Sugar for all that we have done for us and pay him back with a check, unfortunately a big check. Don’t forget Nikki Haley, et al. get a piece of the action too. You know the drill.

The inevitable happened to me. I got audited. You hear a lot about people’s “bucket list”. I can assure you that getting audited by those great guys and gals at the IRS (kissy, kissy, that is me sucking up) should be way low on the list. Much lower than root canals and Justin Bieber concerts.

One day I was going home from the dentist and I checked the mail. In it was my tickets to the JB concert and “THE” letter. I had been cordially invited to the IRS office for a tax audit. I suppose what triggered it was declaring my bookie, Poochie Dooley, as a dependent. Heaven only knows how much money I sent his way, but he drives a brand new Mercedes and his kids are in Ivy League colleges.

After reading the IRS letter and recovering consciousness and getting off the floor. (Note to self: Make sure you are lying down when reading IRS correspondence.) I knew I was in way over my head. It was time to call in the “pro from Dover.” I checked around with my friends and relatives for a recommendation for a tax guy. They could recommend criminal defense attorneys by the dozens, go figure, but no one knew a tax consultant.  I had no choice except to, “let my fingers do the walking.”

There were quite a few ‘tax consultants’ listed, but only a few were willing to go up against the IRS. I cannot really blame them. It is hard to win a hand when the other guy has all the aces and can change the rules at the drop of a calculator.  However, there was one fellow who advertised his willingness to do the ‘David versus Goliath’ bit. So I gave him a call and set up an appointment.

I got all my paperwork together in an egg crate and went to his office. We spent hours going over everything after which he was very confident he could get me off the hook. We agreed to meet at the Federal building prior to the inquisition.

Going down to the IRS dungeon in the elevator he was giving me a pep talk trying to build my confidence and stating his eagerness to confront the current day Torquemadas. The instant the meeting started the bum cratered on me. He was practically on his knees begging forgiveness and agreed with everything the IRS weinie said. I was shocked. Recovering my wits I went toe to toe with the tax collector. I managed to get the fine cut in half, but it was a still a bundle.

Going back to the elevator I said two words to my consultant, “You’re fired!”© 2016, Jim McGowan

 

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Written by harmonycounty

April 14, 2016 at 4:42 p04

Posted in Americana, Humor

One Response

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  1. Jim, excellent column ! Hint, proof read that payment check as well .

    Eldon Kilberger

    April 14, 2016 at 4:42 p04


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