The Audit
by Carol A. Cole
“Harry,
I’m afraid,” Izolda said as they stood
before the huge steel doors with Intergalactic
Revenue Services emblazoned in gold lettering.
“What if they send us to prisoner colony on
another planet?”
“Don’t
worry, dear. All our deductions are okay. My
lawyer looked them over. He used to work for the
IRS.”
“But didn't
he get fired?”
“Number
four-fifty.” The three-headed clerk called
out before Harry could answer. He showed Harry
and Izolda into a large corner office.
“Wow,
windows; he must be high up in the bureau.”
Izolda said as they sat down facing the desk.
A golden-hued
alien with large gills strode into the office.
“Ah, yes. My two-o’clock appointment. I
have all of your records here. There're quite a
few deductions that don't meet IRS regulations.
I’m afraid we’re looking at deportation
to the mining colony on Pluto.”
Izolda started
sobbing. “You promised we’d be okay,
Harry.”
“My
lawyer ensured us that each deduction meets all
current regulations.”
Harry patted
Izolda on her secondary left arm. “We
won’t be deported.”
“This
item for medical expenses; six-million credits
for an eye-lift. Denied.”
“But my
third eye slipped below my right ear instead of
being between the others.” Izolda sniffled.
“Not
essential. Cosmetic surgery is not deductible.”
The agent scanned the forms. “Eighteen-million
credits for a weekend cruise to Mars?”
“Yes, I
have clients interested in the hot springs there.
A valid business deduction.” Harry explained.
“The
Terran Spa does not conduct business deals on
Mars. That is simply a luxury vacation retreat.
Denied.” He shuffled more pages. “A
domed environmental cabin on Jupiter’s third
moon. Denied.”
“But the
second mortgage is deductible.” Sweat beaded
on Harry’s face.
“That was
disallowed unless you live there at least four
months a year. Denied.” He stacked the
papers and looked at the couple. “These
deductions appeared on your last five returns.
You owe one-hundred-forty-four million credits in
back taxes. Payment in full is due in thirty days
or the sentence is deportation.”
“But, we
don’t have that kind of money.” Izolda
cried. “Our lawyer said we’d be okay.
Isn’t there anything else we could do?”
“You can
even volunteer someone in your place.”
“Our
lawyer!” Harry and Izolda shouted together.
“An
acceptable solution. Just give his name and
location to my secretary. We’’ll have
him picked up in the morning.”
“Thank
you, Sir.” Harry steered Izolda out of the
office, stopping at the secretary’s desk to
give her the information. “Let’s get
the hell out of here before he finds the bill for
the personal shuttle.”
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