“39 times!” she screamed. “You met with your accountant 39 times!” There was a wide-eyed wild incredulous look in her eyes. The queen’s mouth remained wide open long afterwards as if in a gasp. It was a stance practiced so much over the years that she now used it with royal; legal; pompous indignation. She was Queen of Numbers; long has she reigned; with power to chop off heads; doing so frequently; gleefully. With both hands I grab my face making sure my own head is still attached. So dizzy am I that even that gives little reassurance as I feel it is already rolling; rolling into the pile of skulls she keeps in her corner.
It is difficult to remain calm or even sane in Wonderland. Before a syllable can pass my lips she bombards me with an order. “It is time to tell the truth!”. She implies that I have been lying but if anything I am being too truthful. There are no friends here. Just deluded souls that smile and say they are there to help. “I am telling the truth!” I remind her of the numerous documents that have been signed under penalty of perjury; emphasized with a sweep of both hands; as Moses did in parting the Red sea.
All the while my head is singing words from American Pie and lulling me to sleep. I am the jester singing to the queen in a borrowed voice. I still remember the bad news on our doorstep; the notice of deficiency that placed us on this journey; a year and a half of standing in line just to approach the white haired judge with his toothy crocodile grin. By his side is Matthew; his shining knight of persecution. His honor makes a point of showering attention upon us. Indeed the courtroom was adjourned and no verdict was returned. They all smiled as the Queen made sure we stayed deep in the hole.