Chuck

Chuck

I had a plumbing company in Boulder

for about four years with a fellow Buddhist

plumber. Our accountant's name was Chuck.

Chuck was Canadian, but had lived in the 

States for quite a few years. Chuck had 

worked for the Canadian government as an

auditor, so he was a sharpie. My partner and

I would meet with him in his office once a

year. We never really discussed our finances

much with Chuck...just laughed a lot. He'd 

shrug his shoulders and we'd just start laughing.

We never had any taxes to pay during those 

years. One year during tax time, Chuck fell dead

in King Soopers from too many cigarettes, too

much coffee and too much deadline. I got the

accountant of a friend to do the books, but no

one could cook them like Chuck. After a while,

we got audited by the IRS. My partner took in 

boxes and boxes of receipts, all mashed 

together, and we thought the little weasel would 

be discouraged and give us a break. Not so. 

That little bastard spent six months sorting it all

out, collecting his salary, and we each ended up 

owing some thousands of dollars. I put off

dealing with mine for years...by which time the

amount I owed had doubled. Clinton did a kind 

of amnesty for tax dodgers like me. My dad said 

he'd help me, and my faux wife at the time did

all the paper work...so, I can actually say I had

one marriage I came out on top. I wound up 

paying something like three cents on the dollar,

so, I can raise my middle finger to the IRS with

glee....