EE snapped his fingers, and the minions behind him filed into the office carrying trash bags of receipts. They piled them in a pyramid against the wall and headed outside to the palanquin; EE was trying to go green.
“All right, Mr. Kerflumble,” he said. “Work your… weren’t you one of the lawyers?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” replied Mr. Kerflumble, straightening his tie.
“Don’t you guys usually specialize? I mean, tax law isn’t the same as legal defense.”
“Of course, sir, but we here at Dewey, Cheatum, and Howe have a slightly different philosophy: your money is safest in our hands.”
“Hmph. Well, if you don’t get me a good refund, I’ll switch lawyers again. Who was the guy I had last time? Bald, thin, fishy smile.”
“That would be Cheatum, sir.”
“Yeah, him. Made off with everything in my checking account and headed for Hawaii.”
“Hawaii is lovely this time of year, but I tend to prefer—”
“—Florence?” EE tilted his head at the brochures poorly concealed under a monthly planner.
“Yes. I’ll be leaving as soon as I’ve finished your taxes. By the way, did you bring your blank, signed checks so I can do your refunds?”
EE whistled, and a minion scurried in and laid a box on his desk. “Get it done,” EE said, and walked out.
Kerflumble smiled to himself and lovingly caressed the photo of the Palazzo Vecchio. “Here I come,” he murmured, and opened the box of signed checks.
Inside was a primed mousetrap. “What?”
He headed for the bags of receipts.
Outside, EE chuckled. “Best use of the slush pile in years.”