from The Paperwork Rebuttal by Daniel Roche (my reading book TXT) ๐
- Author: Daniel Roche
Book online ยซfrom The Paperwork Rebuttal by Daniel Roche (my reading book TXT) ๐ยป. Author Daniel Roche
Selections from The Paperwork Rebuttal (Philistine Press, 2013) were finalists for the Platypus Prize in Innovative Fiction, DIAGRAM Contest in Innovative Fiction, as well as included in The Anthology of the Best Innovative College Writing, filling Station Literary Magazine, and Borderline Poetry.
Paperwork is to be processed as expeditiously as possible in order to maintain a solid workflow. Paperwork is lifeless. It defines an individual by sex, age, marital status, number of dependents, religious affiliation, career choices, life choices, whether or not love was found, and an overall state of happiness. Paperwork does not tell a story. Paperwork does not linger. It is tagged appropriately, filed in the archives, and silenced in order to promote efficiency over humanity.
Visit PhilistinePress.com to view the properly formatted documents. Philistine Press is a non-profit online publisher, so the book is yours to download for free. Dedicated to those who have ever found themselves lost in a sea of cubicles.
The Paperwork Rebuttal
from 'Anatomy of a Broken CPA'
by Daniel Roche
PhilistinePress.com
1040
NOTE: THIS BOOKLET DOES NOT CONTAIN LIVE FLOWERS
INSTRUCTIONS
Dear Taxpayer,
As April 15th quickly approaches the daunting task of navigating through a highly complex tax code may become overwhelming. Deductions, income fees, and penalties change on a week-to-week basis resulting in confusion, frustration, and perhaps even loneliness.
As your local CPA, I may provide the necessary answers to reduce the stress in your life and help you find nirvana in an otherwise dire situation. I'm fully accredited to service IRS audits, flirtatious gazes, as well as calculate the necessary compliments required to have an affair.
My services, however, are not without guilt. Life-partners may be abandoned and children turned mute. The police may be involved. I'm more than capable of sifting through your vices as numerical polyps, but as a CPA I can do so much more.
I've been trained to sink to the bottom of a sea of Form 1040s and inhale every April. I'm capable of socializing tirelessly with refunds and credits. I can view happiness as a checklist, but today I offer my services to assist you in finding a smirk. I offer the key to balancing sacrifice and selfishness. I offer scarlet for gray.
Please take the time to look over my suggestions on how to properly file Form 1040 below. It may save your happiness.
Yours very truly,
Arthur Joule
Arthur Joule, Former Certified Public Accountant
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Line 16a โ The front door did not burst open with dad or husband, but slowly creaked open with Arthur Joule. In the living room was Sarah watching our children. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and envisioned who I was before the bus ride, before the coffee, before the lights turned off. Who was Arthur Joule?
Line 16b โ He was a man that struggled through guitar lessons for their twentieth anniversary. He was a little league foam hand on a Saturday afternoon and a standing ovation for a pink dressed pianist in an audience of fifteen. He was a member of the PTA and president of the neighborhood watch group. He was a toast to good friends and hearty food. He was a massage after a difficult day of picking the kids up and dropping them off and dinner on the way home from work. He was a lump of a man on a couch dependent on his wife to fix him soup and get him medicine. He was an occasional shower with her. He was an arm around her. He was a flower when she least expected. He was also a lost face in a lonely office. He was a discount suit tailored. He was an employee ID badge in a national firm. He was a loose handshake, a hated job, and a complete lack of passion. He was a middle-aged tedium drowning in neutral colors burning for a momentary flash of red.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Lines 23 โ 37 โ All else turned gray and crumbled, while I glinted amber and finally smirked my own sunset.
Fill Lines 23 to 37 on Form 1040 as follows:
23________________
Adjust
Gros ed c performing artists, and 24________________
nco s 24 Attach Form 2106 25________________
I m 2 26______________ _
27________________
28________________
one-half of 29________________
self - 30________________
he ar 31________________
paid 32________________
e 5 33_______________
Dn 34_______________
SIMPLEcsE w . . 35_______________
ecvauem3n8mZoff e me.
MARc23OSEERugae is . yo u djgcnit 36_____________
o3minRudbet 2 h j I. c. 2 I . . Th i s . i. . . c .. aueoss 37_____________
__________________________________________________________________________
For Disclosure, Privacy Act, and Paperwork Reduction Act Notice, see page 97. Cat. No. 11320B Form 1040 (2012)
'SEC Love'
by Daniel Roche
PhilistinePress.com
United States
Securities and Exchange Commission
Washington, D.C. 204549
Notice On the Demonization of the Rich
My mother cheated on my father with Nasdaq resulting in my birth being on an escalator rising up to the depths of Wall Street.
I tied my umbilical cord as a full windsor and power walked before I crawled. My first word was an instructional presentation
detailing the devastation caused by bottle-feeding economics "We will benefit from a survivalist mentality. Groupthink is death."
My education began in a cubicle and as I matured, with promotion after promotion, I discovered my ambition was no more than a brazen pet. It was a beast that learned discipline as I wrapped a choke collar around its objectives. I jerked, I yanked, "I will be Mr. Williamson" until my inner MBA growled obediently. I throbbed in meetings and surged "make it happen" during quiet luncheons. My poise advanced with every sunrise. I inhaled a healthy heaping of power with every breath, until "Petunias, tulips, roses?"
She Was Eliza and I Was Paralyzed
During my teenage years when forgettable girls matured to be desirable women, my mother lunged at "love and marriage are not the same." She claimed statistics united couples and flow charts determined fertility. Dating started with resumes, interviews, IQ tests, and a complete history of empirical flaws. My minimum qualifications were bobbed hair, contralto voice, and a doctoral thesis identifying 'The Sterility of Thomas Paine as applied to Profit Maximizing.' There were a few first dates that triumphantly made it to a second, however it became clear my zeal meant "Ambitious, but you're a complete ass." After five decades of "I'm sure we'll do this again" I accepted my loneliness and attended to my work as I would a religion - in the name of earnings, acquisition, and holdings, never amend. You see I wanted unconditional love, but under my conditions, and I had never found a partner who could honestly claim "You're no longer Mr. Williamson. You're Charles, only Charles."
I've overheard I'm not particularly a good man. I've overheard I've destroyed entire lives from behind my desk and all for the sake of "a point two percent increase this June."
My Conscious Was No More Than a Bill to be Paid
Listed below is how I fell in love for the first time at seventy-five years old.
1. At the age of six, I gave Natalie a Valentines Day card "You can have my cupcake at lunch," but my mother found out and so "Charles, this is what a prenuptial agreement looks like."
2. "If you're not doing anything
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