subject: The IRS Audit and a Madman's Laughter [print this page] The IRS Audit and a Madman's Laughter The IRS Audit and a Madman's Laughter
Nothing made him more angry than the IRS. John Cutter, toward the end of his days, was like an old car sputtering out on the last few good cylinders. A man with an IQ of 157, his oncoming alcoholic dementia coupled with a natural bent toward eccentricity. So, the day he reckoned with the IRS when they summoned him for an audit reflected a mixture of all of these things.
The limp that resulted from a WWII shrapnel hit showed a little in his gait as he walked from the parking deck to the IRS offices. Wearing a crumpled Phil Silver hat and horn rimmed glasses, he looked straight ahead. In one hand he dangled an overstuffed manila envelope.
He slowly mounted the long steps to the marble faced Federal Building. He admired his reflection in the black shiny marble, though it revealed an unshaven face, and tattered dirty clothes. He disappeared in the revolving door and searched the directory for the location of the IRS auditor's office.
Once inside, about ten minutes passed and he reappeared, this time exiting out the revolving door. Now with a happier stride, he headed back down the steps.
He paused a moment as he caught sight of a familiar face on the sidewalk headed his way. Straightening his posture, he descended the stairs with an even happier walk. What a coincidence his favorite daughter had the same destination that day.
She hadn't noticed him yet, and when he caught her arm, she took a start and yanked her arm out his. When he spoke, she suddenly recognized him and put her hand excitedly to her chest heaving a deep breath.
"Dad!" She exclaimed, startled. Are you sick or something? You look horrible. You scared me!"
"No, honey. Just an IRS audit." Suddenly self-conscious of his tattered clothing, and unkempt appearance, he knew an explanation was in order.
The daughter slumped her shoulders, and as if embarrassed, looked around self-consciously. She turned one ear toward him, listening.
He told of his cessation of bathing, and other hygienic norms that he had contrived just for this occasion.
"When I got notified of this audit, I got ready for it by not taking baths for a few days beforehand," he told with a smirk. "Didn't brush my teeth, either."
He related how the IRS people took his information out of the manila envelope, and had spread out the paperwork for viewing, and how a number of people took seats around the table.
"Pretty soon, I see them talking back and forth, whispering and making faces to each other. In a few minutes they packed up my IRS paperwork, and let me go," he followed with a mad man's laughter.
