Italian Money Laundering
THE SPAGEHETTI SAT STEAMING IN FRONT OF ME like a newly delivered calf in the cold morning air.
“But you don’t get paid for that. You don’t, do you?” I asked.
“No. The last time they offered, told them no because I was on unemployment and if they paid me, it stops,” said Thor. It’s sad that the Norse god of thunder has resorted to such measures, but budgets are tight these days. It was one of the reasons we had dragged ourselves out for the cheap all you can eat spaghetti.
“You should be getting paid. I mean, what with all the work you do with electronics.” His job was simple; keep things running.
“I haven’t blown anything up yet,” said Thor in a tone that told me I was depressing him. He dipped his fork into the spicy marinara drenched pasta and leaned down on it like an encroaching lion on a wounded Elk.
SAUCE SPLATTERED ERRANTLY ACROSS THE TABLE. I thought the waitress would be mad, so I made sure I left a big tip as we stood up to leave.
“You could take the money anyway, right? I mean, it’s not like they audit you or anything,” I said. Thor rolled his eyes at me. It was bad enough we were discussing fairies at a table in a crowded restaurant. Now I had just suggested a Norse god lie to the IRS.
“Oh yeah they do audit. I mean, I turn in taxes and they check for any reported revenue.”
“You mean unreported revenue,” I corrected quickly. Gods had been around thousands of years. Then again, so had taxes. I guess I should’ve known they were still new to the Norse pantheon.
“Yeah, those. If I had checks coming in from the University, what would I tell them?” Thor asked cynically, reminding me of Loki’s playful manner this afternoon when I bumped into him.
“You could tell them it’s a death tax,” I said.
“What? My own?”
“No. You’re a god, you can’t die. Can you?” I responded quickly.
“I haven’t died yet. I’m pretty sure I’d only get one shot at it anyway,” he said. The setting sun lowered, casting shadows in front of us, his towering over mine like a god over a… well, a man. The new blossoms scented the air with Spring, reminding me that Thor would have a job in no time as the April storms appeared. He had even mentioned a hot prospect in the area.
“You could put it under the table. You know, say it was freelance; a one time thing.”
“Oh yeah, that’d work.” Thor glared down the street.
“You could say, ‘you remember that sex scandal? That was me.'” Thor stopped dead in his tracks, his hammer swinging gently back and forth from its wrist strap.
“You remember that sex scandal? That was me. I mean, no I wasn’t the lecherous old man or the nubile young woman, but it was me,” said Thor, a grin breaking out on his face. “That was all me!”