Me and the post office gal, we conspired. Conspired with an unknown bureaucrat across town. The Bascom Street bandits, we call them, the IRS processing center in Fresno.
I am hoping for the agent that says, shit, do the deal and clear the record.
My post office lady knew the zip by heart, 93888. I know folks who work and have worked there. I imagine it as a machine, huge hall of cubicles, papers flowing around in patterns.
One more form, the old California 540, but my brain is warped, it can actually do the thing without pain. I don't like that, never wanted to be taxman.
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