Tax Man

I talked to the tax man yesterday. One of those guys in a funky green suit with the statue of Liberty crown on his forehead. I wish he knew that I didn’t really make enough money to bother with the tax plan he was trying to tell me to do. I wish he knew how hard it was to get my brother home for Christmas. I wish he cared about the fact that I really dislike the sweet sugary mints that he was trying to give me. He didn’t care about any of that stuff, so I blew him off. One thing I won’t have to say when I’m an old man is that I wasted my life listening to low-life walking billboards who care more about themselves than they care about me.

No regrets.



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