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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This entry was posted on Tuesday, April 14th, 2009 at 8:06 am and is filed under Chet The Dog. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.

2 Responses to “Taxes”

  1. Rebecca Rice
    3:46 am on April 14th, 2009

    Yeah, we left ours 'til last night too. Stupid us. But don't worry, Chet, when the taxes done, Bernie's bad mood won't last too much longer. If he gets a refund, the bad mood will evaporate and maybe you guys could even go for ribs. Or some of that Portugese sausage…

  2. Diane Brodson
    3:55 am on April 14th, 2009

    When you're a dog, even taxes can turn out to be great.

    That's enlightenment!


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