"Wait" he said "You forgot the Indian Reservation Credit"
I stared at my client, an 84 yo carpenter who had smiled the whole time, and would happily accept whatever the tax Gods willed upon him.
"Did you make an reservations at an Indian restaurant in 2013?"
"No, I frequent the Pakistani joint in the square"
The boss lifted a large file box and took a the three ringed notebook from it.
"I recall one of the exceptions to the IRC is that it includes any political entity who had a border dispute with India which resulted in Indian land being converted to the aggressors territory, with the aggressor establishing an eatery for a consecutive period of no more than the total sum of 30 days and 4 hrs., adjusted by time zones."
He slammed the book back in the file and stared at me.
"Clearly, he qualifies, your carelessness may have cost him, were I not here, please pay closer attention to details"
"Speaking of details, did you check the cost basis of his capital gains, quite detailed"
"Haven't got time for that, gotta button up this return"
"OK, well it has been fun, see you next year"
On the way out, I smiled at Tony the security guard, and he saluted.
"See ya next year, mate?"
"Only if God dies and leaves the planet to the 1040 Nazi"
As I shouldered past the inner door, I could see the colors of the sunset ahead.
One more door to freedom, the rush of liberation set my mind on fire. Beyond spring fever, there was fever of a season yet to exist. It featured music, unicorns, dancing naked nymphs and high in the sky, Snoopy in a World War I fighter, shooting out sky writing: "Surrender".