April Nightmares

I fear the IRS. I don't know why, but I do. I don't even make enough money to be on their radar. Still, every year I stress out over my taxes. I guess I think I'm going to make a mistake. You know, one of those mistakes that's serious enough for them to send out the guys in the black suits: the ones who grab you off the street, throw you into the back of a stretch limo, and drive you off to some abandoned warehouse where they ask you really serious questions under bad fluorescent lighting. I know it's ridiculous, but I can't seem to convince myself otherwise. Maybe I've seen too many movies. Maybe I have an irrational fear of authority. Or maybe I'm just completely neurotic. Either way, it makes tax time absolutely miserable.

This year, I've decided to compound my misery by amending a return I filed a few years ago (I made a slight miscalculation and ended up with $78 I probably shouldn't have), a process so ridiculously complicated that I started wondering what would happen if I just let it slide. You know, just this once. I mean, it's not like I made any real money in 2006. Unless you count the $48.72 in interest I earned from my savings account. Then fear kicks in and suddenly I'm on the IRS shit list next to Al Capone. Why am I so scared of these people?

INT. AN ABANDONED WAREHOUSE – EVENING

CHRISTOPHER sits tied to a chair, his arms and legs bound with electrical tape. The room is dark, save for a few fluorescent bulbs. Two large men emerge from behind the open trunk of a stretch limousine. MAN #1 is carrying a small tank of aceteylene gas; MAN #2, a welding torch.

CHRISTOPHER

I tried to make things right. You gotta believe me.

MAN #1 sets the aluminum tank on the ground. He slowly unscrews the gas cap. We hear an audible hiss.

MAN #1

You hear that?

MAN #2

Did you fill out form 8574 Section D, Box 3A?

CHRISTOPHER

I didn't even know there was a form 8574...

MAN #2

(yelling)

Form 8574 Section D, Box 3A! See Tax Table 2!

CHRISTOPHER

There's a Tax Table 2?

MAN #2

(laughs hysterically)

MAN #2 grabs CHRISTOPHER'S tongue with his fingers.

He lights the welding torch.

CHRISTOPHER

Mommy!

FADE TO BLACK

You know, maybe I'll amend that return after all...