It was that time of the year, and no amount of sighing or pretending to be sick would change that. Someone was brave enough to jump down the stairs and break a foot. The rest sighed in desperation. The odds increased. And when they saw their boss arriving, they knew the draw would start.
Everybody placed their names inside a flowerpot. It was an heirloom from the defunct succulent thrown away three fiscal years ago. The boss shook the flowerpot and the names danced around. Before he could open the folded paper, he took a moment to appreciate the lack of breathing of his staff. He fought so hard to reach a position of power, and in moments like this he could fully appreciate decades of effort spent kissing ass finally paying off.
“Giovanni Giorgio,” he said with a dumb smile, “congratulations. You will come to understand this is just standard procedure. You have nothing to fear.”
Young Giovanni Giorgio was a junior accountant. It was one of the most dangerous jobs in his hometown. He thought of himself as a magician of the numbers, a chef of the books, and the badass of tax returns. His coworkers looked at him with pity. He shrugged.
He got in the tiny company car. The manual transmission coughed a bit, and between second and third gear, it froze for a millisecond. The worn-off gearshift knob danced in his hand, and the car struggled its way up. The powerful client had a small parking lot for staff and visitors. Giovanni Giorgio parked in the first of three spots, reached for his briefcase, and headed to the door.
He read the instructions twice before leaving, so he was prepared. The client lived inside a jagged mountain, towering black over the colorful town. It stuck out of the beautiful greenery for its dark, sharp contours and the scorched trees and stones. None of that made Giovanni Giorgio fear the client. He was a mage of numbers. The mountain had one doorbell, positioned in front of the path leading to the entrance.
“Good morning. I am Giovanni Giorgio, but everyone calls me Giorgio. I am here on behalf of Scales & Flames Accounting.”
“No!” The rough and somber voice screamed at the speaker.
“Sir, shall I come back tomorrow? You can scream all you want, but I will come back.”
“Get away!” A large flame licked the sky. “Okay, come.”
He walked down the pristine path to the small cave without a door. Just as in the instructions. The mountain shook with the client’s rage, but Giovanni Giorgio did not flinch. The client knew very well not to mess with an accountant. He took a surprisingly new, clean elevator and pressed six.
Out of the elevator to the sixth floor, the mountain resembled a bank. Many shelves with gold coins, precious stones both rough and polished. It was his first time visiting the client. He thought the client rested on the mountain of his own wealth. However, it was pleasant to know that the client, despite keeping his wealth at home, kept it well organized. Giovanni Giorgio, however, was wrong, and he found Mr. Carmine on top of a pile of gold coins.
“Are you scared, little boy?” Mr. Carmine spoke with his rough voice, that seemed in need of a glass of water.
“Why would I be? Mr. Carmine Claws, I am here to help you.”
Giovanni Giorgio knew how to fix his gaze on the face, the pointy teeth, and the red eyes. The scales of his body could be the size of his human hands. His body alone could cover three large houses. Mr. Carmine could obviously grab a whole cow with his front paws. The only unsettling detail was the color of the client. The instructions never mentioned his color. He fought the urge to smirk because his job was on the line. Mr. Carmine Claws was pink, flamingo pink. He had imagined Mr. Carmine black or burgundy, perhaps green, even blue, but pink? Mr. Carmine was pink, a light shade on his body and a stronger shade on his limbs and snout.
“Thinking well, you are scary, sir. I am here to file your taxes and give you the best outcome, as we have always done in Scales & Flames Accounting. I am a mage of the books myself, sir. Trust me.”
Giovanni Giorgio smiled, but his eyes were cold. He placed his briefcase on top of a desk, just in front of the pile of gold, directly in the gaze of Mr. Carmine. Meanwhile, the client opened his mouth and, instead of roaring, released a large flame that burned the west side of the mountain.
“Mr. Carmine, I see no chair or stool under the desk.”
“If you hurry you won’t tire yourself!”
“Yes, Mr. Carmine. I will confirm your personal information before we get to your income and deductions. Mr. Carmine Claws, born on September 12th of 1692 CE…”
“I’m a Virgo.”
“Yes, you are, sir.” He proceeded to confirm the document numbers and by the end, Mr. Carmine rang a golden bell, and the staff lady came with the income and deduction documents. She brought the books on a metal cart. Giovanni Giorgio smiled at it. “Sir, how would you like your books cooked?”
“I enjoy them well-done,” Mr. Carmine showed his teeth in gratitude.
While Giovanni Giorgio glanced and skimmed the books, three sheep arrived: it was snack time. They walked “baa baa baa baa,” and when Mr. Carmine used his heavy tail to yank them to his mouth, their “baa” went higher until they released a guttural scream before stopping with the sound of Mr. Carmine’s gulping. After snacking on the three sheep, Mr. Carmine had another staff member floss his teeth and wipe the blood from his face.
The bowel movements kicked in, and Mr. Carmine defecated. Giovanni Giorgio pretended not to notice, but the staff knew the back of the gold pile was brown. The contents from Mr. Carmine’s bowel were removed quickly, and he spat fire to burn off the methane in the air.
“How is it going my boy?”
“I have all the documents I need. I will come back with a very agreeable plan. Have a good day, sir.”
Giovanni Giorgio left with the car full of books. Mr. Carmine roared and spat fire again, but the junior accountant didn’t flinch while waiting for his elevator. Giovanni Giorgio ran with the cart towards the company car, threw all the books inside, and drove off with shaky hands.
“…he shat while I was there!” He screamed, still with bloodshot eyes.
“Did he eat sheep?” His boss tried not to sound amused.
“Sheep are crunchy! Poor creatures, why does he have to eat them alive? Hoarding motherfucker!”
“Watch your words, please. Without Mr. Carmine, our town would not exist. His wealth is the reason we have Scales & Flames. He is the reason our houses do not burn down. He is the reason we have jobs and peace. It is up to us to keep Mr. Carmine free of worry and, most importantly, to find him a way to pay fewer taxes and keep the town alive. There was a time Mr. Carmine snacked on people. We must not forget that!”
Giovanni Giorgio went home angry. While he lived in an attic shared with three other people, Mr. Carmine was shitting on gold. Pink reptile with wings. Snacking on livestock to intimidate a junior accountant. He slept and had a fever.
Slowly he cooked up a plan, and like any good Christian, he would start with the sacrifice of a lamb. Giovanni Giorgio chose the most beautiful and round lamb and stuck a blue ribbon on it, for it was the same color of the accounting firm. Days passed while he meticulously cooked the books for Mr. Carmine. His job was flawless: he had a great talent for creative accounting, and he worked overtime to recheck everything. Mr. Carmine would not have to pay taxes; in fact, his fiscal year looked so bad that he would get tax returns!
Giovanni Giorgio put all the books in the tiny company car and drove with the lamb on the front seat bleating happily. It almost broke his heart. But if he succeeded, nobody would ever eat sheep again, live sheep, he thought.
The cart was waiting in the parking lot empty to transport the beautiful books of Mr. Carmine. He pushed it upwards with the lamb on top of the papers and took the elevator. Mr. Carmine had spoken to the boss, so he knew Giovanni Giorgio would bring bonanza and happiness. What a delightful day. The boy wasn’t lying. He was a real mage.
Mr. Carmine waited with a large smile and a little blue flame coming from his mouth. For those who understood, it meant contentment. Mr. Carmine could not sign the papers; he had a stamp with his insignia he would hold with his teeth. He stamped every paper Giovanni Giorgio presented to him while eyeing the beautiful lamb, paralyzed behind the junior accountant.
“Thank you for your patience. Thank you for taking your precious time to stamp the documents, Mr. Carmine. We have this small gift for trusting us all these years.”
Giovanni Giorgio pushed the lamb ahead and Mr. Carmine snatched it with his tail and ate it without chewing.
“Uh… I love lambs. They almost taste sweet. Don’t you think so?”
“I have never tried them alive, sir. I am happy it is to your taste. For the next fiscal year, we will have more.”
“Betsy! Floss and poop, floss and poop!” Mr. Carmine rang the bell furiously. “It is difficult to find staff, a little fireball and they run away crying, could you imagine it?”
“Must be difficult for you, sir, to find decent staff. Nobody wants to work anymore.”
“Finally, someone who understands it! I have been saying that for three hundred years.”
Mr. Carmine Claws felt a sting. It wasn’t uncommon to have a bone or two pinching and poking his flesh from the inside. How could a soft lamb upset his tummy this much? He coughed out smoke and then tried spitting fire to unclog his pipes, but the sting worsened. He looked at Giovanni Giorgio, who seemed desperate to help him, trying to climb up the mountain of gold.
“Sir! Sir! Betsy! Betsy! Call an ambulance! Mr. Carmine is not well!”
Despite trying to climb the pile of gold, he failed as the coins slipped below his feet succumbing under his weight. Only someone with wings would be able to reach the top of the pile.
Mr. Carmine shot fire for what seemed an eternity while his wings danced frantically in the air, and his paws tried to grip the gold. His body gave in and his neck fell with a blast on the hard coins, spilling them all over the large cave. He tried to speak, but only air came out.
Giovanni Giorgio allowed himself to smile. “Pink ass reptile. Does it hurt?”
Mr. Carmine smiled as he agonized. Giovanni Giorgio was just like him. He died peacefully.
Betsy came out of the corner; her pants were soaked and her face was wet. Giovanni Giorgio then calmed her down. He held the stamped papers close to his heart.
“Betsy? I am your boss now.”
