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A Taxation Fairy Tale, As it Were
01-05-2011, 10:27 AM,
A Taxation Fairy Tale, As it Were
A Taxation Fairy Tale, As it Were

This is a true story told in fairy tale format. It took place in Santa Fe, Texas on January 3, 2011.

Our close friend Colleen is injured and confined to a wheelchair for now. She is staying with us until she heals and can return home.

Her property taxes were due so she and my wife went to pay the tax and this is their story....

Stan Norred

A Taxation Fairy Tale, As it Were

By Marilee Norred and Colleen Beetham

Once upon a time, there was a girl, Samantha of the Wilde, who purchased a piece of property in the beautiful kingdom of Santa Fe. And after eight years of perseverance, she had paid for the land in full and had the beautifully inscribed deed. Little did she know, the property still did not fully belong to this valiant miss, for there were evil tax agents that said that if she didn’t pay taxes every year to the local authorities and district of learning, she would lose her hard-earned land. Her means of earning a living were limited, though she was honest and loyal to the Wizards of CVS.

Upon receiving two separate notices of land taxation in the daily post, Samantha discovered compliance was not immediately obtainable, because her income could not sustain this level of taxation. So, she began to look at income versus expenses -- golden eggs from the Wizards versus the cost of beans to feed her poor critters -- and tried to determine what she could do without. One of her first sacrifices was the magic clothes dryer – which could easily be replaced by draping a supple rope between the graceful saplings in her front yard. Additionally, Lady Samantha realized that she could live without the miraculous outpouring of hot water continually – so she had a gallant knight, Sir John of Smith, enchant the water heater to only produce the water of warmth upon demand for the weekly ritual washing event. As an additional measure for fiscal independence, the lovely lass ascertained that she could glisten more in the heat of the summer and wear more adornments in the cool of the winter in order to minimize the utilization of central conditioning of air. This all allowed the fair maiden to reduce her reliance upon the malevolent Barons of energy.

So the dreaded day of reckoning was fast approaching when the fair miss must submit her remuneration to address her notice of taxation. Alas, she worried, how could the dire and substantial amount be amassed in a timely manner to satisfy the unending hunger of the tax agents?? Well… there was a garage sale. The struggling miss had to sell off pieces of heirloom jewelry in order to add to the paltry sum of coins in the glass bottle on her hearth. There was also the business of renting out a piece of her beloved land to wandering peasants who needed a roof over their heads – this allowed enough additional feudal income to allow the accumulation of several hundred pieces of currency that would barely suffice to meet her alleged tax obligations.

After gnawing on the hard tack baked from fallen yeast provided by the kindly Sir Windstalker (who had taken pity on our fair lass), she called upon the services of a local carriage to take her to the community banque. Although unsure as to whether they had sufficient banque notes available, the mistress of telling requested our fine lady to wait whilst she searched the vault for additional currency notes. Lady Samantha eventually exchanged her saved currency of large denominations into single units of legal tender, so as to surprise and frustrate the evil tax agents.

Upon arriving at the office of taxation, Lady Samantha was suffered a lengthy wait amongst the other heavily-taxed subjects of the kingdom. At long last, one of the taxation representatives wearily waved for our simple miss to approach. When she handed over her writ of taxation for the local authorities, they requested the allotted sum. Pulling a dilapidated bag filled with the single units of currency, Samantha pitifully stated, “I’ve saved all year in order to pay this dreadful tax”. But don’t think that our miss was downtrodden, in fact, behind her wounded appearance lay a spirit of defiance and rebellion. Indeed, she was smiling behind her mask of offended righteousness.

The lowly clerk – merely a pawn of the greater bureaucracy -- received the bulky currency payment; she was stunned and speechless – unable to respond appropriately to this unexpected method of payment. She hastened to the back of the taxation office to confer with the overmaster; this managerial agent was taken aback as well, but quickly gathered her resources, calling for accoutrements of fastenitude. Upon acquiring some small clips, the agent and two clerks began the exchequering of the currency notes. Upon the initial accounting, the overmaster gleefully pronounced that Lady Samantha had shorted her payment by a single currency unit. Our rebellious lady, however, smugly stated, “Forsooth, you are mistaken. I have brought the exact amount to the final three pennies.” Shaking their heads with chagrin, the clerks and the overmaster began the laborious effort of enumerating the stacks of currency bills a second time. After passage of more time, the clerks and overmaster finally printed the bill of receipt indicating payment in full. Without looking at our dear Samantha at all, the taxation agents dismissed our fair maiden and returned to their dreary work with other subjects waiting for their turn to submit their remittances.

Lady Samantha, however, retreated from the taxation office satisfied that whilst she had no choice but to comply with the writs of taxation, she had at least made a statement to the evil tax agents as to her defiance of these unwieldy requirements. For at least another year, she had secured her rights to her own property. To celebrate and share the tale of this taxing event, our fair maiden and her erstwhile friend, Maid Marilyn, proceeded to the local watering hole where they were regaled with beverages of barley and hops. Surrounded by friends who also resisted the requirements of taxation, a revolution was born….

Soon, the banques had lines of poor souls requesting single units of currency to take to the office of taxation to pay THEIR writs of taxation in equal manner. One peasant, son John of Clan Denon, was said to have remitted his writs of taxation with pieces of lowly metal in a stocking of questionable state. We hear that the overmaster and clerks have fled from their desks of servitude, fearing for their sanity and escaping the escalating task of infinite enumerating….

And the woodland creatures living on Lady Samantha’s land of Wilde lived happily ever after. And the over-taxed residents of the kingdom?? Well… they continued to scrape together a living, changed their orbs of illumination to low wattage versions, hung their clothes on saplings, trudged to the watering hole on Saturday nights for barley wine, and snuggled under blankets by the wood-burning stoves in their cottages. Happiness isn’t found in the accumulation of currency, but by the company you keep, the spirits you drink, and the courage you show in the face of tyranny.


The taxes were paid in $1 bills, quite a few of them.....

The Bank had to retrieve bills from their vault to cover this number of bills.

She then removed the bands from the bundles of bills and placed them in a bag along with the correct change and stirred.......

I can only imagine the look on the faces of the tax collectors upon receiving them. ;-)

Several more of our friends are picking up the torch and paying their tax bills in the same manner.

This could be the start of something small......


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