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Friends Don’t Let Friends Evade Their Friend Tax

This entry was posted on Dec 22 2010

Frank and I have been friends for a little over ten years now and like most pals we implemented a “friend tax” whenever one of us came into good fortune. Well, let me clarify…this friend tax is a one way street. For the last few years now whenever Frank would come into some money (undeservedly or by sheer luck), I would remind him to send ten percent my way. It would never amount to that much cash. He’d win a scratch-off lottery ticket or have his unethical accountant lie on his W-2 form in order to scam the government out of more money on his tax return, and when an event like one of these examples transpired I would, like a gentleman, remind Frank of our friend tax. Throughout the history of this regulation I would have never received more than three hundred dollars in one sitting, and usually it would be significantly less than that. However, the alarming key words in that last sentence are: “would have”. That’s because Frank has never paid his friend tax. In fact, every time I bring it up Frank becomes very defensive and continually (like a broken fucking record) asks me, “why should I give you my money?”. I’m always shocked by this. I mean, good fortune rarely comes Frank’s way, so it’s not like he’s always writing me checks or anything. Not to mention my confusion as to why this even needs to be justified or explained.

I’m sure many of you are wondering why Frank has to pay me a friend tax and I don’t owe him shit. Well, it’s because I’m pretty much the best friend anyone could ever have. Do I share the wealth when free money comes my way? Of course not, but that’s simply because I “pay” Frank back in a myriad of other ways. For years I’ve been giving Frank fashion advice (that he seemingly never takes because he dresses like baboon) and free five-hour long sessions (twice a week) on how to be more interesting. I also write Frank jokes when his inevitable dry spells come around.

I should be living the American dream on Frank's dime!

Frank’s 65th Dry Spell: October 2008

Frank and I were brainstorming comedy ideas. I had just filled up another marble notebook with skits and one-liners when I noticed Frank’s trembling hand clutching a pencil. It was chewed most of the way down. I didn’t want to point out how nervous and sad he looked. I had already hurt his feelings twice that day and didn’t have the energy to handle another round of Frank’s weeping. “Hey dude”, I said. “What do you think of this one? You know the song, “Everybody Dance Now”? Well, for a zombie comedy…it could be “Everybody DEAD Now”. Eh?”

I’ve never seen a person look like Frank did at that moment. The perfect mix of jealousy and despair. His glassy, blank eyes began to water as he told me how funny he thought it was. I told him he could have that one and he rejoiced. I wasn’t phased. This has become routine.

You should see what he can do to a cock!

Considering all the things I do for Frank, I feel the least he can do for me is pay his friend tax in a timely fashion, but the appalling reality is that Frank doesn’t feel he owes me anything. When his grandparents, or his “abuelos” (as Frank says in his made-up baby talk) give him money for his birthday, he greedily squirrels it away in the bank. When Frank finds some cash on the side of the road he hungrily spends it on food and other unnecessary things instead of asking me how much I want. And when the cashier hands Frank more change than he was entitled to, he gluttonously makes the cashier aware of his mistake and gives the extra money back so that the cash drawer wouldn’t be short at the end of the night. What’s his damn problem? Rhetorical question: haven’t I been a great friend? I’m not sure where he learned to be this horrible, but his avarice has no limits and something has to be done. Frank needed to learn the error in his ways and start paying his friend tax. A tax I rightfully deserved. You all have no idea how exhausting it is to be Frank’s friend!

Does Frank deserve to go to prison? Perhaps, but only if he will truly learn his lesson. I want my friend to be better because of this. In the United States, the standard penalty for tax evasion can be up to five years in prison and/or a $100,000 fine. My fear is that if Frank had these punishments bestowed upon him he would come out of prison five (or ten if I cry during my testimony) years later and resent me. I could imagine him being extremely bitter. I mean, this is a guy who refused to pay me a friend tax, he’s clearly not smart enough to thank me for his incarceration. I could probably pull some strings and get him OJ Simpson as a roommate, but who knows with this guy? I do have tremendous clout within the justice system and I wouldn’t want to abuse my power, but what other choice do I have? Frank is leaving me very few options. Like I said in the beginning of this article, Frank and I have been friends for quite some time and like all friendships we’ve had our ups and downs, but I had to question whether this relationship has run it’s course. I’m not a stubborn person, but Frank’s friend tax evasion is a deal breaker. I have no other choice but to turn him into the authorities, but I need a little more information… OFF TO THE IRS!

This is OJ's actual prison cell and future site of his death.

When I arrived at the Internal Revenue Service headquarters in Washington D.C. I was immediately disappointed by the lack of fear in the atmosphere. It was like they weren’t trying anymore. There were no ominous gargoyles perched atop the roof. It appeared they had recently hired professional contractors to redo their walkway. And worst of all… it was a gorgeous day. Not a cloud in the sky. When I come to the IRS I expect a certain level of evil, and arriving to anything less than perpetual darkness and a future that is eternally bleak… well, it’s just not worth the airfare.

Disheartening scenery aside, I had a job to do. To go into that building and find the grumbliest old man on the payroll and have him tell me how to get Frank to pay his friend tax or how I can prosecute him for failure to pay. To my dismay, everyone was very friendly and helpful. No bitterness. No seething. Not a single fucking person relishing in sin as they audited some faceless person into oblivion! So, when I sat down with one of their associates (who was seemingly having the best day ever), I had to be the horrible one!

IRS Associate: Howdy sir, what can I do for you today?

Joe: You can shove that happy-go-lucky attitude straight up your ass for starters!

IRS Associate: (chuckling) You’re such a card. I bet you’re a hoot with the ladies!

Joe: (the heaviest sigh I could muster) My deadbeat friend won’t pay his friend tax.

IRS Associate: You want him to pay?

Joe: I want him to pay with his life! Also, with money.

IRS Associate: You’re a riot. You must have a ton of friends.

Joe: I have only grievances and regrets.

IRS Associate: So, a friend tax you say? What is that?

Joe: Simply put, I make my friend Frank give me ten percent anytime he comes into some money.

IRS Associate: I see.

Joe: But he refuses to pay! He’s extremely self-righteous as of late and it’s becoming a major burden.

IRS Associate: That’s too bad. What did you want us to do?

Joe: I want you to burn his damn house down!

IRS Associate: I see…

Joe: I’m not sure you do see, sir. What the hell happened to this place?!

IRS Associate: Woah, let’s settle down. There’s no reason to raise our voices.

Joe: Are you going to help me or not?

IRS Associate: I don’t believe that a “friend tax” is, well…how shall I put this? It’s not a real thing.

Joe: (knocks papers off the desk) Unbelievable!

IRS Associate: That’s alright, I’ll get those later. Accidents happen.

Joe: I did it on purpose!

IRS Associate: Really? Why?

Joe: I’m out of here. You know he lied on his W-2, right?

IRS Associate: Eh, we’ll let him slide this time. We’re very reasonable people.

I added the dementor to make it more menacing.

The IRS was a huge disappointment and I was running out of options. I’ve decided not to report Frank to the government for tax evasion. I realized that I use Frank for way more things than just a friend tax, so I can’t afford to have him cooped up in prison (but know that I could have, Frank!). I suppose there is no other option… I’m going to have to steal from him. I mean, if he isn’t going to pay the friend tax willingly, he really isn’t leaving me any other choice. I’ll take the cash right out of his damn pockets and spend it in front of him. And if he puts up even the slightest protest I’ll slap the goddamn taste right out of his pig mouth! I’ll slap it out and then slap it back in just so I can slap it out again! I’ll knock some teeth out if I have to.

When I write these thrilling exposes I tend to think out loud. It disrupts almost everyone else in the office from getting any work done, but it’s something I refuse to change. One of my co-workers overheard my ramblings and questioned me why I didn’t have to pay Frank a friend tax. I explained that I was exempt from paying him because of what a great friend I already am. Frank doesn’t possess any of the incredible qualities I do that justifies my exemption. “If he’s so uninteresting and lame, why are you friends with him”, he asked. I was in the midst of walking away when I looked back at him over my shoulder, cocked up my eyebrow, and with a smirk said, “For the tax, baby! Friendship is all about the benjamins.” And that’s a statement that will forever hold true. Friendship isn’t about sharing your feelings with another or having someone who will always be there for you. It’s about getting the most out of that person as possible. It’s about manipulation and beatings. Whoever can beat the hardest wins! That’s life, baby! And if I want my friend tax paid, well it’s going to get fucking paid! I’m sick of having the same nightmare every night where all I see if this…

This image haunts me. I never want to have to see it again...

PAY UP, BITCH!

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