My husband is the family tax preparer, by which I mean that he does the taxes for our children, friends, neighbors, and one unfortunate homeless man who made more on the street corner last year than he could conveniently hide in his offshore accounts.
Last night was my daughter’s turn to go under the careful scrutiny of Captain Turbo Tax.
“Babe,” he called from the den, “what was your charitable giving this year?”
“I don’t know. My dog ate the printout.”
“I’ll just put $5,000. That should cover your used underwear donation to Goodwill.”
First, let me assure any IRS agents reading this, that he did a thorough and accurate job on her taxes. The underwear was actually $22 dollars and change. Considering that it was from Victoria’s Secret, I think that’s a very generous rate of depreciation.
In exchange for doing her taxes, my husband wanted her to bring a turkey for dinner, complete with mushroom dressing. Since she couldn’t claim the turkey as a business expense, he got a roast chicken from Wal-Mart, complete with a quart of potato salad and a quart of beans.
While he worked on her taxes, she read my book. One expects a certain amount of feedback from a beta reader. When she didn’t enthuse and gush about it and therefore crushed my spirit as a writer, he deducted $50 from her refund. She also gave him a free haircut, so that seems a little harsh.
Still, our family deeply appreciates his valuable services.
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Wherever there is injustice in the Internal Revenue Code, whenever there is a cry for help from the oppressed middle income working class, he will be there. Captain Turbo Tax will save the day with his software of righteousness. The cape and tights are optional, as long as you understand that you can’t deduct the dry cleaning cost on your expenses.