Tax Day
by Ursula
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SCENE: The grim, austere and evil offices of the US Infernal Revenue office:
IRS Taxman, L. E. Nor Rigby sits at his desk, below the proud trophy of Al Capone's Mounted head.
His shapely secretary is buffing her nails, dreaming of her glory days as a White House Intern.
Enter first client of the day, Mr. Victor Mansfield. A drop of drool drops from the ruby lips of secretary, Cee Nic Interest.
Victor whips out his checkbook and writes a large chest, hands it to L. E. Nor Rigby, who looks at it bemused and states, "Ah, this is very nice, Mr. Mansfield, but you're Canadian...shouldn't you be paying taxes there?"
Honest Victor sincerely states, "Well of course I did, but then I thought, I've been to the US. I must have earned money here so I felt obligated to do my part." As Victor looks furtively around, he slips a file in the audit inbox...the director's name written in bold crayon there upon.
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As Victor leaves, a slightly dazed figure shadow boxes in. "Mr. Rodney Lange? Occupation? Prize fighter?"
"Yep, that's what I do. Float like a bee. Sting like a butterfly. Why just the other day I bit off an ear...course the guy was just one of those ringside artists, a Mr. Van Gogh." Rodney said proudly.
"Ah, yes, but about these twenty-six exemptions you've claimed? I really appreciate your efforts to recover from alcohol, but I must disallow your claim for all these codependents."
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And in walks, Cory Raines holding a gun to his own head...announcing, "If I don't get a tax return check in five minutes, I'll blow the bastard to hell."
Aside to the secretary, "Hey, babe, thanks for the phone number..."
Then, Cory looks sincerely at the auditor and says trembling, "I think he means it..."
Giving in the IRS auditor shrugs and writes a large refund check. Even the IRS has to recognize a bigger thief than they are.
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"Ah, Mr. Hardy, everything is in good order. I really appreciate you coming here. The IRS is fine with you, but my colleague from Immigration and Naturalization has heard that you are harboring an illegal alien."
Pause.
"I'm sure you do need this like you need a hole in your head."
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Mumbling that after a while these guys all look alike, the auditor greets a leather clad figure..."Ah, Mr. Krycek."
Alex nods and Walter Skinner lifts the auditor out of his chair so Krycek can sit in it. Mulder winks and perches on the edge. Assorted OCR's and fans cart in boxes and boxes of receipts.
Hours later, buried in paper, the auditor asks, "Your expenses seem rather high, Mr. Krycek. Are you sure that you can't use a gun more than once?"
Sneer number six answers that one. The auditor frowns at Mulder who declared a net loss between lost wages for abduction and death, child support for all the children he and Scully had, not to mention the odd offspring of various male partners and he, lost guns, cellphones, and high expenditure of funds for research into pornography and it's link to alien colonization.
L. Nor Rigby took a fresh face from a jar by the door and said, "What about the condoms you are claiming? A grand total of...a calculator spews a ream of paper. Two million, fifty thousand, one hundred and six condoms? I'm afraid that you will have to submit proof of this expenditure."
Several dozen OCs grunt in carrying prints outs obtained from Karen L's library. The stunned auditor reads the outpouring of stories until he reaches...Small Smut and can read no more. He says, "I guess I will have to allow the condoms. Now, I see you claim lost income as well as Mr. Mulder? Let's see imprisoned in Tunisia? Locked in a Silo? Chained aboard a Russian freighter, and unemployed in Hong Kong? You can't expect me to believe that...
Click. Sound of a silencer begin screwed on.
On the other hand, all your expenses do seem reasonable. Write him a check, C. Nic Interest. I have a headache and I'm going home."
L. E. Nor Rigby's Taurus was parked in the employees parking lot...and as he approached, he noticed that it was covered with slips of paper, enough tickets to keep him broke until the next election. From behind a pillar, Ricky Caruso snickered...audit that, Rigby!
The end of a taxing day...
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