Tale end of the second volume of "The Star Giants" nonology.

[Kevin Anderson]

Tales of Accounting #1

OK. This is the kinda story that I've heard regarding the Magic Castle's accounting department. With members like Harry Anderson, Rodney Dangerfield and Walter Matthau. There's a tendency towards complex and entertaining tax returns for members, side projects, and guild-like elements of the Academy of the Magical Arts which gives them broad leeway with the IRS. So.... the first story... takes place in the 1980s. Dangerfield sees a statement to the effect of put any penalties here. So he tapes a stick of gum to it. The IRS calls him in and they just stare at him for 5 minutes... and then tell him he can go. This kind of relationship was a little more rocky in earlier years. 1972. Dangerfield is a rookie in the Accounting Department. The Chief is Rube Goldberg who had died 2 years before. At least as Rube Goldberg he did. He had another identity thanks to his WWII work teaching impromptu machines. I'm not at liberty to divulge that identity. However, Rodney gets a call. March 12. Monday morning. The Amazing Randi was working on the year's returns offshore on the The Rabbit, the yacht that generally resides offshore for U.S. illegal activities (note, they remain offshore) generally like pyrotechnics and certain Tesla experiments. The Amazing Randi has eaten a rather important part of the 1971 tax return. It was written on a sheet of blotter paper, that depicted furry woodland creatures dancing about a pentagram. It was supposed to be photocopied and sent to the IRS on Monday. But..... Randi ate the bunny. Which had a good chunk of Goldberg's precision miniscule script and hand-drawn tax form. He didn't eat it all at once. It was over a 3 day weekend. Where he entertained himself on The Rabbit luxuriating in the relatively spacious and well-furbished atmosphere compared to his monastic-reminiscent cell/apartment at The Magic Castle. Swimming, painting, catch-and-release fishing, honing escapology, playing Art Tatum transcriptions, and doing tantric yoga.

Now.... to say that this was quite a pleasant endeavor while tripping balls on some Owsley-manufactured blotter was an understatement. But... like most experiences of that sort.... there was a crash. Rube came in and started yellin' at Randi in colors. Not just pleasant pastels either, but bright dayglo colors and paisley patterns that were very black and spikey with umbers and ochres. Randi ate at least half of the 1099 subcontractors section. A 4"x5" section filled with 4 point print, of people contracted for props, assistants, and assorted magical ephemera.

This could have been a disaster. It nearly was. But Rodney got on the horn with Daniel Posner in Washington. Described the situation and asked if they could get an extension. Daniel said "Absolutely not! Last year he shredded the returns and used them to line rabbit cages. That's all the leeway you got. Especially after Jonathan Winters and his charades returns in 1967." "We fired him!" said Rodney. "OK, OK, Fire Randi and you've got a deal" "Nope! I can't do that. We're going to need him to reconstruct the return. If you can get one of your guys here, We'll show you." Posner was audibly irritated "Look. You already showed me chiromancy audit techniques. It better be better than that." "It will be" said Rodney with his fingers audibly crossed behind his back.

So... the next day. Posner's arrived at Burbank Airport. The remainder of the blotter sheet has been photocopied and there were probably some very entertained marine mammals. In one of the subterranean chambers of the Magic Castle Rodney is putting Randi in a hypnotic trance. Posner looks queasy. Rube just looks ticked. And Joey Heatherton has a steno pad ready to rock. To make a long story short, the WHOLE episode had to be transcribed. Randi's impression of what was on each piece of blotter he ate, annnd the intervening time period summarized in Randi's long-winded fashion. "And then I tried to capture the fluffy clouds using my smallest horsehair, one stroke, two strokes three strokes, four strokes, five strokes, oh... the beauty of the Pacific Ocean. I sauntered over to the table and had a piece that had the letters Joh above Fel. Things were getting pretty shiny as the sun dropped and my dolphin buddies were dancing out among the waves, I considered adding them to the painting, but I'd already masked out the areas that I wanted to touch upon ocean conservation and encroachment of habitat via oils and canvas. Can I get some lemonade?" The next three days were a miasma of dull reverie and memory and hypnotic trance and transcription. But, in the end, the return was completed, Posner realized he MIGHT need a return recalled someday and Randi was promoted to Cabana Boy. This has been another tale from The Magic Castle... I like to call this one. Bunny bunny bunny, IRS wants their money.