By Clay and Bub
*Ring ring....ring ring*
George Harrison: Hello? This is George.
Heath Wilson, CPA: Good afternoon, Mr. Harrison. Do you have a minute to discuss your taxes?
GH: I was about to have my wife stolen by Eric Clapton, but go ahead.
HW: Uh, well yes, ok. So, Mr. Harrison -
GH: Call me Mr. Winterbottom.
HW: Er, Mr. Winterbottom...
GH: It's George Winterbottom actually, call me George.
HW: George, have you reviewed your tax filings I sent you last week?
GH: George? That's Mr. Harrison to you, sir. I don't go around calling you out of your name like Mrs. Heith Wilson, MPA or Heith Winterbottom DD.S. Call me Mr. Harrison, please, Mrs. Winterbottom.
HW: Alright, are we through this yet?
GH: Yea mate, sorry Heith go ahead.
HW: George, have you reviewed your tax filings I sent you last week?
GH: No, man. Well, I've been listening to Ravi Shankar. Does that count?
HW: No, it doesn't. Let me tell you how it will be...
GH: Blue Jay.
HW: I'm sorry? I don't understand.
GH: As an adjective - will IT be Blue Jay?
HW: Blue Jays are birds George, not adjectives, and they are quite pleasant. I am referring to the percentage of your income that is owed to taxation and contrary to Blue Jays, it is not very pleasing indeed. This year, due to a decade of skipping out on taxes, you will owe 95 percent of your income!
GH: What is that? 19 for you and one for me?
HW: Precisely, well 19 for state and federal governments, one for you, and a nominal fee for me. Honestly George, you are in such a precarious position I have cut my rates on this job lower than I can stand to tell my wife, just because I don't want to see you in such fiscal disrepair.
GH: Yeah, alright then taxman.
HW: We've been over this already, I am your accountant. I do your taxes for you. It is a service I provide: it is my job. When you call me 'taxman' it comes across as perjorative. I want you to understand that I am doing you a favor. And while I am sure you'd love to have the extra $38 million to start your own panda ranch, let me assure you you are lucky they aren't taking every penny you've got!
GH: I already pay taxes everytime I go out to eat - I leave extra money after I finish for the taxlady that brought me my meal.
HW: I am sorry sir, those were restaurant servers not tax agents. You were leaving what lucid people refer to as 'tips'. Anyway this is off point - you are being taxed for nearly everything. They tax your car to pay for the streets. They tax your coal to heat your house. Sir, they've taken to draconian measures and in certain areas they have enstated a 'foot tax' for walking on sidewalks.
GH: Aye, and the seat I sit in, they tax that too! Isn't that right, taxman?
HW: I suppose at the point of sale...
GH: Fucking hell they do. If I died they'd probably tax the pennies in me eyes.
HW: Why would you have pennies in your eyes?
GH: To cheat taxes.
HW: Christ... I see we have not made much progress today. Listen, I will write this all up and send it to your lawyers. I am legally obligated to explain this all to you otherwise I would not have wasted the hour it's taken to get across a few paragraphs worth of information to you doing so. I am sure you have some transcending to do anyhow. Listen, George, I care about you. I'm only looking out for your best interest, you understand that right?
GH: Fuck off, taxman! Taxman... hey, I've just had a great idea for a song!! (Picks up a guitar, strums it and begins to sing) "Here comes the sun, doo-n-doo doo, here comes the sun, and I said, 'it's alright'..." Yes, I'll call it 'Doo-n-doo doo'... no... how about,'Here Comes The Sun'? I got it; 'Fuck Off With Your Taxes'! What do you think? Heith?
HW: *Click*
