(Knock on the door.)
Mr. (looking in his notes) Jesus, (flashing his ID badge) I am an IRS officer, can I come in?
I am here to audit your IRS returns for the last (ummm) let me see, 2000 years?
You don't mind if I munch on something.. My lunch time, you know.. (chewing) while I am auditing you?
What did you say? You didn't file any stinking IRS tax return?
Don't worry about it. If you didn't file it, our audit department created one for you, so we can subsequently audit it. We need to generate some controversial returns, so we can keep busy.. you know... bad times for everyone.
So, let's start. Mr. Jesus.(while munching)
Your social security number here is 00-000-0001 Is that correct? What? Speak louder. You don't have any stinking social security number? Is that so? (smiling sympathetically) Let me put it this way, Mr. Jesus. Don't fight it. You are better off if you have one, really.. Otherwise we have to throw you out of the country as an illegal element, I mean.. .. illegal alien. You don't want to be thrown out, do you, Mr. Jesus? Out of our beautiful country, the land of the free? (keep munching).
And oh, OK. Here it said, Mr. Jesus (with his mouth full pointing into the paper), that you are filing as self-employed AS Jesus, as a tax-exempt non-profit? Ueeee.. Jesus!! Mr. Jesus who do you think you are?
Oh, by the way do you have any ranch salad dressing, that I can put on this stale chicken sandwich that I picked up on my way up here from a dumpster that is near you condo elevator? Ah? No? Too bad.. I love ranch salad dressing.. I put it on everything, even into my Cuban coffee.
But OK, Mr. Jesus. Let's move along. We have 2000 years of audits to do. Do you think we can finish today? If not, I can come back... I don't mind, but make sure that tomorrow you buy me that ranch salad dressing... It will make the whole auditing so much smoooothher...
So, here you claim two deductions for medical expenses, Mr. Jesus. One for an acupuncture and another for a Hialeah-based Cuban voodoo-healer? Both for some open wound treatments on your wrists and (in disbelief ) on your feet too from long rusty nails that have been hammered into your feet and wrist incessantly by mean and plain stupid folk...
Oh Jesus (disapprovingly), Mr. Jesus, such a long cumbersome deduction raises a red flag..
Here, let me ask you this, (poses) Mr. Jesus, was this incident ever documented? And if it was, where was it documented? Do you have any records? And as for these two outlandish treatments, clearly, Mr. Jesus. Seriously, look, acupuncture is a clearly controversial treatment. We can't allow that. A voodoo by a Cuban healer , might be a go, but if only you've have had it over a lunch. Then you could deduct it as a business expense, a client entertainment of sorts, but certainly not as a medical expense, Mr. Jesus. Get it?
(screaming) Mr. Jesus...
Where are you going, Mr. Jesus? I didn't finish reviewing your returns, yet. And.. umm.. I have half of my sandwich left. You going where? Jump off your balcony? What did you say? You don't have time to waste on one IRS moron when the future of entire humanity is at stake????
You are going to do what? Jump off, off this balcony, so you can return to Heaven and manage humanity at large? And what else? What? Push the time line back and try to rewrite US history so that IRS would never happen?
(screams...) Oh, Jesus!! Mr. Jesus. You don't make any sense. (mumbling to himself) A delirium, obviously. It's expected... That happens a lot on IRS audits. People go insane, plain dead sometimes. And that's fine with us.
Because, you know what? We gotcha anyway! You wanna, jump, jump. Mr. Jesus, exercise you right. We'll file accordingly. Death, Mr. Jesus will not free you from your taxes.
(Yelling down, as he looks down on flying down Jesus...)
As soon as you hit the ground... Mr. Jesus, Do you hear me?.. as soon as you hit the ground, your estate taxes will be due, Mr. Jesus, do you hear me? Where should I send the estate tax paperwooooorkkk???????