Monkeys Thugs WinSubmitted by monkeyswithguns at 2008-02-28 16:19:46 EST
Rating: 1.83 on 17 ratings (17 reviews) (Review this item) (V)
It was at work, on a Thursday, that I recieved a call from the IRS. They told me that our company was required by Section L-Page 15-Paragraph 27- Line 59 (beginning at word 19) that as the manager of our 1500+ vendors, it was my responsibility to ensure that I acquired a new signed copy of their form W-2's every year, or they'd be sending....an auditer!
I of course gasped in shock, like I normally do when things perturb me, such as a fly landing on the lid of my Wendy's Frostee™ cup, or when little kids point and laugh, which happens more than you'd think.
After I recovered myself, while the not-so-nice gentleman on the other end waited for me to respond (apparently this happens often), I told him "But that's impossible! How can I possibly account for over 1500 people moving and going out of business without ever telling us?!? This is ludicrous! I want a lawyer! I want a public defender straight out of law school who isn't so jaded by the constant hypocrisy and biased laws on a daily basis that he can function as a full fledged attorney!"
His reply of course, was "Not gonna happen."
Dead, flat, matter-of-factly was the tone he used, to a quite surprising result of me dropping the phone and yelling something about "those damn dirty apes."
When I recovered for the second time, and found that he had not yet hung up (apparently this ALSO, happens quite often,) I debated him on the morality and righteousness of this matter. Of course righteousness and morality don't apply to governments due to the by-laws left by Moses as sole interpreter of God. (Section F- Page 44- Paragraph 12- Line 14)
Finally feeling defeated, I resigned myself to the idea of being accosted by these black suited thugs. I set a date and time for him to go through our files, look on my computer (be expecting a visit uber-ers) and rifle through my pockets.
The day he showed up, crew in tow, I was calm, having taken approximately 44 injections of valium, drool spilling out of the corner of my mouth.
The first man pushed me aside in a nonchalant manner, while the second man handcuffed me immediately and shoved me into a chair. The third man, the brains behind these two ape-men, began to speak:
"Sir, we know you've been skimping on your tax forms. We know that people have moved, and not given you notice, and it is YOUR duty, as a business, to track them down, tackle them, do whatever it takes to get these forms signed on a yearly basis, regardless of whether or not they've made any sales, or have recieved any income from the aforementioned sale of your products."
It took me a moment to respond, since I had to wipe the drool off my face with the shoulder of my grubby t-shirt.
"How can I do that? It's impossible! I'm not God! I can't possibly know where everyone moves to, changes their business name to, changes their FEIN number to on even a 10 year basis, let alone a yearly one!"
"Well sir, that's YOUR problem."
The next 72 hours were hell, as they ransacked like a gang of looters after a riot, or even more accurately, like Vandals after the sacking of Rome.
While I sat there, slack-jawed and sedated, I vowed that I would get my rights back, and put things back the way they belong, the American way!
Then I realized that the American way, WAS their way of doing things, so after I was released, I went straight home, and sent my gang of monkeys to their hotel room.
I'm not certain of the details, but from what I've heard, there was much poo flinging, and biting of faces, and ripping of genitals. All the things you think of when you imagine 50+ monkeys in varying sizes, not to mention 3 gorillas, 5 orangutans, and 19 bonobos.(Who mostly sat around and butt-fucked each other while this was going on.)
I'm pretty certain the IRS won't be back anytime soon, as I've jumped ship to another country, changed my name to Raoul Diego, and began my new career as a professional bush-meat touter.
My only problem now? That all my customers are eating my simian army, leaving me with little protection in this harsh, cold, world.
Thank you, good night.