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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2118917-That-Time-I-Forgot-To-Pay-My-Taxes
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Contest Entry · #2118917
Entry for Writers Cramp contest due April 18, 2017 and it won!

That Time I Forgot To Pay My Taxes


I think it was because I was in Texas. It's difficult for me to pay taxes in Texas because I suffer from Inversione Della Sindrome Alfabeto which I contracted from eating the wrong kind of pizza. What is the wrong kind, you ask? You don't want to know.

Anyway, apparently what happens in Texas doesn't stay in Texas because soon I found myself part of a story ripped from today's headlines. Well, now it's yesterday's headlines, but I can recall the embarrassing episode as though it was still then when then was today...

I walked out on the little bridge that crossed the creek. The fog had settled into a soft blanket of grey that reminded me of a kitten I once owned. His name was Smokey. That's when I heard the meow.

At first I had no idea where the sound was coming from, but then I looked down and there on a rock that was higher than the surface of the creek was a kitten, wet and miserable and meowing.

Unlike Smokey, this cat was pure white and I imagined I might name him Snowball if he were mine. "It's OK, Snowball," I said. "I will rescue you."

"I don't think you will," said a rough voice and I looked up to see that a tall, leather-clad man had walked out on the bridge to confront me. "The kitty has been bad. She's being punished."

"But she's just a kitten!" I protested.

He leaned into me so his face was in my face. "And no affair of yours. Now get along and keep your nose out of other people's business."

In my dreams, when I relive that scene, I fight with him and win and save Snowball from a life of misery. In reality, I walked off the bridge and left him there with Snowball. I can only hope she survived his harsh ownership.

I know you understand I have changed names and places to protect myself. The kitten was not a kitten, but a woman. However, the man was a man, but the bridge was not a bridge. Instead, the bridge was a symbol for a transitional period when it was necessary for me to "cross over" into another mode of being, but I failed. I failed miserably.

Of course, it messed up my life. I was a nervous wreck. I became anxious and forgetful. You see where this is going, don't you? Yes, I forgot to pay my taxes!

That was a wake-up call. "WAKE UP!" life said to me and I did. I cleaned up my room and the kitchen and the bathroom.That was enough cleaning for one day. The living room could wait until tomorrow, but the important thing is I made a start! I engendered a beginning!

A new day dawned with me cleaning out the emotional sludge that filled my brain. Soon my empty skull sparkled like a brand new cooking pot. I cooked a full meal for the first time in months. It was delicious. And that evening when the sun was going down, I realized something.

I had finally crossed the bridge and I did it without a kitten in my arms. I gazed into the big orange ball of the setting sun and smiled while the credits rolled across me: Story by Steev



WORD COUNT 566
© Copyright 2017 Steev the Friction Wizurd (friction at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2118917-That-Time-I-Forgot-To-Pay-My-Taxes