Dear Infernal Revenue Serviced

I heard that y’all have really been slacking off on conducting audits here lately. It’s now down to roughly one in every forty seven bazillion returns gets audited. So, for all of the rest, you generally take the taxpayer’s word for it. Whatever they scribble on their 1040 form and send to you, y’all just have a trained monkey process it and stick it in the file.

That’s especially good news for me, since, once again, it appears the United States Government has decided they didn’t get enough of my blood throughout the year and now, come tax filing time, they’d like an emergency transfusion. A negative. B positive. AB Latte. Something.

So, while to this point in my life I’ve been straight as an arrow when dealing with y’all, I’ve decided this year to enroll in Creative Tax Filing 101.

Y’all will be getting Schedule A’s, B’s, C’s, a few Double D’s (which ought to make the male and lesbian auditors happy) and the Schedule of Bus Routes if I can lay my hands on it.

Y’all will be getting 1040’s, 1050’s, a 10-10-321 so you can call for just 10 cents a minute and a 10-100, catch you on the flip-flop, good buddy, roger that.

Furthermore, I’m kind of busy at the moment and I don’t think I’m going to have time to get all of the paperwork done by April 15. Y’all just go ahead and cut me a check for, oh, I’ll make it light on you, $275,000, and we’ll just call it even.

Yeah, I know, I’m taking a chance that I’ll be the lucky one who gets a full blown, pants around my ankles, and bent over the stove audit this year. And that I’ll wind up having to pay y’all thousands of dollars, my first born, and a goat named Clyde. I know I’m gambling with you.

But, I also hear that gambling debts are fully deductible, too. I can’t lose.

Nothing but love for ya, baby,