Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2118882-That-Time-I-Forgot-to-Pay-My-Taxes
by Will-G
Rated: E · Fiction · Family · #2118882
Not all bad luck is bad luck.
John Smith was walking down the pavement. He was feeling good because it was a good day for a walk. He felt the sunshine on his face, which was not too hot and there was just a gentle breeze that kept him from sweating but not enough to give a chill. He started out early as it would take about an hour to get to work. He also took the time to take in the surroundings in the neighborhood. The green grass in front of the houses lent him a smile, the cute dogs that rushed out made him feel noticed and the trees and flowers that were beautifully manicured gave him a sense of belonging to something wholesome. He had never walked to work before and would likely not do so again. So all in all this perfect day for him to walk under the perfect circumstances just didn't come along very often. He had seized the moment and the moment turned out to be just that – perfect.

John used to have a Honda Jazz. It was reliable. John was reliable. A great little family car for him, his wife Melissa and his twins Megan and Teagan who were both 11. John felt pretty good with his life. He made general manager at his insurance firm, kept in shape and Melisa was pretty alright if you asked anyone or easy on the eyes if you asked someone else.

“So here's the thing M,” John began, on that morning before work exactly 3 months after his tax deadline, which he had missed.

“Yes Husband,” replied Melissa.

“Well we've had the Jazz for almost 7 years now, and...” said John as he shaved his upper lip.
“... maybe its time..scrrch scrrch...we bought something... scrrch... a little bit cooler?”

“Mmm definitely cooler,” said John as he toweled his face dry and gave himself an approving look in the mirror.

“Mmhmm, Ok Hun, what did you have in mind?” said M, with a - that's not such a bad idea – look about her, while she adorned her underwear of black lace and matching bra which also matched her wavy shoulder length black hair.

“Red, small, convertible – your car can do the school run and other lifts.”
“Well, I never Mr. Smith. Does this mean you'll be taking me somewhere?” said M sliding up alongside her husband like a bond girl.
“Indeed I will, M. Hold on to your enthusiasm, thish might get dangeroush.” Came the suave reply.

Things happened pretty quickly after that morning exchange for John. He booked a cozy little room at a quaint boutique hotel on the coast. It was he thought, a lovely 2 hour drive, mostly along the rugged shoreline with green canopies above and white foamed seas below. The twins were persuaded of the delights of spending a whole weekend with Grandma and cookies and Grandpa and stories and all the attention they could handle.

M would no doubt bring the black lace and be his better half and he could have that escape he had hoped for but only now realized actually may come to pass.

He recalls the negotiations at Mario's Exclusive Cars.
“Mr. Smith, may I call you John. It may not be a Ferrari, but it is Italian.” Mario really did have a curly bracket mustache which he did caress at opportune times during his sales pitch.
“John this car is you. It has all the finesse and style that you will need. A robust and sufficient engine. All the comforts and safety at the most affordable price. It is brand new off the production line – one of the very first of the new line and one of the first imported into our country. You will be the only one driving this Fienza.”

Well, as John now recalled, you couldn't really call them negotiations – it was what he could afford, looked really cool and Mario did know how match a client with a car.

John had his finance pre-approved, checked his budget, checked his cash flow, organized his insurance (of course) and planned to pick up his ride on the Friday. He and M would cruise down to the coast the next day leaving in the early sunshine.

John had his fair share of memories were things kind of fell apart. He knew that look, even on Mario.
As he walked into the showroom he could see Mario nodding slowly as if to say, I tried. Mario's brow was furrowed, his lips were spread wide but pushed tightly together and he made as if he had held his breath for some time.

“My friend. John.” Mario began. “It is as times like this that you must ask yourself. What is important in life? Huh”
“Your health, your beautiful wife and oh those adorable twins. Your time will come. Your time will come, my friend.”

“Mario? Whats wrong...sigh.” John replied, already knowing that he would not be taking M away on a dangerous mission, but he may be going home on a dangerous mission for real.

“Thee taxes. They have listed you on their database John. The bank will not complete the finance.” Mario sounded far less Italian when he gave this news to John.

John only needed to hear the word T a x.., before the exact morning he planned to submit his taxes came back into crystal clear illuminating memory.

That was Friday afternoon. M understood on Friday evening and took it rather well on seeing how crushed John looked. They re-booked the holiday, got the tax sorted out on Monday, and decided to buy a different little coupe.

Why the different coupe and why Johns epic walk this morning? John had already sold the Jazz and - The Sunday news had a story about a brand new Fienza that burst into flames on the highway and all models had been recalled.
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