Death and Taxes

“Nothing is certain except Death and Taxes.”
John looked up from the his hunched seat at the bar and glared at the looming figure.
“Sure that’s easy for you to say…” he started to say, but the other raised his hand then pulled up a stool.
“Please, there are many excuses you can give, many sorrows you can attempt to drown in…” he plucked Johns glass from his now limp fingers. “Cheap whisky. But your time is up my friend. You failed and that’s all there is to it.”
John grabbed the glass back and knocked it back, savouring the burning shock as it slammed down into his already roiling stomach.
“Look tell the man I can pay him.”
“Now? I’m surprised. I wouldn’t expect someone who can pay his debts to have skipped town in the middle of the night.”
John looked into the cold eyes of the other man. A million tales, plans to make back what he owed, boiled up in his mind but he could see no home for them in those flinty depths.
“No. Not now.”
“I thought not. One more? On me.”
John nodded and waved the barman over.

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