Otter: Flounder, you can’t spend your whole life worrying about your mistakes! You f—-d up. You trusted us! Hey, make the best of it! Maybe we can help.
Flounder: [crying] That’s easy for you to say! What am I going to tell Fred?
Otter: I’ll tell you what. I’ll swear you were doing a great job taking care of his car, but, you parked it out back last night and this morning, it was gone. D-Day takes care of the wreck. We report it to the police. Your brother’s insurance company buys him a new car.
Flounder: Will that work?
Otter: Hey, it’s gotta work better than the truth.
Bluto: My advice to you is to start drinking heavily.
Otter: You better listen to him, Flounder. He’s in pre-med.
Mo wanted to get a Tax Professional to do our taxes. She had some nutty idea that because that’s the way we’ve done it for 11 years, we should continue down that oh-so-safe path. I have no idea where she comes up with these things.
I assured her we could do it on our own this year. Both Smith Boys recommended Turbo Tax (yes, they are quite the pranksters). I took a semester and a half of accounting 30 years ago. I did my own taxes for many years, using nothing more than a 1040-EZ form and a handful of No-Doz. How hard could it be?
Not bad at all, it seemed. We actually banged out the first half a couple of weeks ago. Half done! Cruise control! But then Mo had to chase down some art income stuff, and then Pandora had an unfortunate Indigo Girls mix that made work impossible, and then Mo got a nasty cold that lasted forever, and then there was an excellent Morgan Freeman movie on (spoiler alert: the good guy was guilty after all), and next thing you know it’s Friday night, three days before the deadline. Still, no worries.
We picked up where we left off, that being in the middle of the night with a delightful offering from the Deschutes Brewery. Suddenly we were in the land of 1099s and 280zs and “if you screw this box up you’re going to be roughed up by an auditor named Rocco.” We skipped over a confusing part. Only to land at a more confusing part. And then a more confusing part. And then a mysterious code language that could be cracked only with an Orphan Annie Decoder Ring. Suddenly, we were in that scene in Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure where he’s driving in the dark and the road is doing figure eights. We were totally screwed.
When we had left off, we smugly were showing an $800 refund. By the time we gave up last night, we were up to paying $1,300. I think Turbo Tax can sense fear and was trying to pocket the money on the sly.
So we did what any enterprising, smart, creative people would do: We gave up. I booked a 9 a.m. appointment with H&R Block on April 15. When we began this process, Mo’s only requirement was that we finished it early. I’m guessing she didn’t mean early in the morning on the final day.
Immediately after securing the last-minute appointment, I began the long and painful process of profusely apologizing to Mo, a process I’m sure will not be completed till sometime after Labor Day. things will be much easier for her next year when she’s filing as a widow. Stinkin’ cadmium.
But it’s not really my fault at all. If only she’d have watched “Animal House,” she’d have known. Never, ever trust me.
And if you do, by all means, start drinking heavily …