Tax Day

By Stuart Gimble

A day to pay or be paid. A day to break even or even to be broke. A day on which the post office is open until one, but only one person works there.

Tax Day.

A day of silly scribbles and deductions and lies. A day of numbers, forms, papers, and lines. A day of Federal poppycock and outrageous bribes.

Tax Day.

Ernest did his taxes in January, although he knew he owed. He believed in the state and its way of business and thought himself a champion amongst citizens. But, alas, tax day did pass and an auditor called. He wanted to check poor Ernie's books so they scheduled the date.

Tax Day.

Kyle put it off 'til April 15. He had money a-flowin' down low. Location to be exact: near the table, but underneath. He had seventeen workers, all Mexican, he called slaves.

Tax Day.

A young lass called Brenda did waitress with pomp. Her father pampered and prepared her papers for the IRS while she smoked half a pack of Kools with the gals from the shop.

Tax Day.

Poor Stu, a man of extraordinary taste, is relegated to writing tax day-themed waste. He gets paid in hot dogs, Kool-Aid, nickels and dimes while the Pork Pony staff eats steak, couscous, and sips fine wine.

Tax Day.

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This page contains a single entry by Stuart Gimble published on April 15, 2002 2:05 PM.

Vodka Funnel Remembered by David Kendall, Jr. was the previous entry in this blog.

Breaking Away by A.S. Albright is the next entry in this blog.

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