What are taxes, exactly? Whatever they are’s got Bernie in a not-too-good mood. He’s at his desk in the office, papers all over the place, some fluttering down toward me, lying under the desk. I chewed on one or two, not very tasty. Bernie’s got ink on his chin. “These numbers won’t work,” he keeps saying.
Can’t help you there.
“We need more deductions, Chet. But what? What can we deduct?”
Deductions – a new one on me. More papers fluttered down. After a while, Bernie sighed and said, “Looks like we have to visit Mr. Singh.” I got right up. Love Mr. Singh, and I hadn’t tasted that curried goat of his in too long. Taxes turned out to be great.
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