The daily life of American TV agents

Chapter 55 Tax Collection
Uncle Fried Chicken said a very philosophical sentence: "Whether to spend or not is not the same as whether you have it. Money, as long as you have it, is a kind of peace of mind."

Ron felt that Director Zhao in "In the Name of the People" would definitely give him a thumbs up when he heard this, and he almost expressed his heart. If they knew each other, they would probably have a lot to talk about, but Ron is not today. Come to discuss the reasons for drug trafficking with him.

"Well, these things aside, I'm not here to talk to you, anyway, everyone I've met has their reasons, I think, you can go to "The Voice" to have a good chat, absolutely Viewership has gone up.”

Ron took out a tax registration form from his pocket and slapped it on the table: "Why don't we have a good chat about how much tax you missed in the laundry business?"

Ron's other hand under the table moved slightly, and there was a crisp click. The trigger of the large-caliber Smithway revolver quietly opened under the table, and the muzzle was aimed at Uncle Fried Chicken.

"Now, I can send you to God with just a flick of a finger. I suggest that you fill in a number that I am satisfied with. My bonus and department funds this year will all depend on it."

Ron didn't hide his greed at all. Uncle Fried Chicken frowned slightly. He hated it when someone talked to him so forcefully. It is humiliating to hand over the money.

"What if I say no? Don't forget, there are my snipers outside, so I want to bet on whether your bomb is real." Uncle Fried Chicken said the most vicious threat in the most kind tone, from outsiders Looking at the expressions of the two from a different angle, one might even think that this is two good friends chatting.

"Hahaha~ Congratulations, you guessed it right!" Ron took out the things just now from his clothes. It turned out to be an MP3 and a few large batteries tied together with tape. It really looked like a bomb. Uncle Fried Chicken couldn't help but A fit of exasperation.

I was put together by this thing just now?
Ron's hand on the table made a gesture of holding a gun, pointing to Uncle Fried Chicken's head: "But, who told you that I came alone? Your source of information seems to be outdated, my dear friend."

Ron slowly raised his pistol-shaped hand, and when it reached the level of Uncle Fried Chicken's head, a small red dot appeared on Uncle Fried Chicken's temple, and Uncle Fried Chicken's friendly smile finally appeared on Furui Wubo's face A little flustered.

This direction...is his own sniper!When was he killed? !

Finally caught up~
Ron also secretly wiped his sweat in his heart. Fortunately, Hank moved neatly, otherwise this beep would have been almost impossible to pretend.

It turned out that Ron called Hank as early as he was going out to discuss the plan for today: Ron pretended to be alone and went to the fried chicken restaurant to meet Uncle Fried Chicken to attract all the attention.

And Hank went back to the base first to get a silencer pistol, and was responsible for cleaning up the bodyguards and thugs brought by Uncle Fried Chicken. The sniper was something Ron didn't think of.

He never thought that Uncle Fried Chicken could be so cautious, and he just chose a seat by the window. Of course, it is not ruled out that the other party deliberately induced him to choose to sit here.

Fortunately, Ron was well prepared. At the beginning, he used the "human bomb" trick to shock Uncle Fried Chicken, and then took the opportunity to secretly send the coordinates of the sniper to Hank by text message.

With mental arithmetic and unintentional, coupled with Hank's good skills, he quickly eliminated the sniper and aimed his gun at it. The rhythm was just in line with Ron's estimated time. That's why Ron just pretended to beep. scene.

"Okay, how much do you want?" Uncle Fried Chicken has always been more of a shrewd businessman than a drug dealer's desperado, so he decisively chose to compromise.

If a sum

Ron narrowed his eyes: "Let me do the math, according to your little genius, he can produce nearly 800 kilograms for you at a time, and your price for these goods outside is 35 dollars per gram, tsk tsk, one time $2800 million in net income, that's amazing."

Ron's tone was extremely sarcasm. If possible, Uncle Fried Chicken would like to pull the safety of the grenade, stuff it into the big mouth that was constantly opening and closing in front of him, and blow his whole head to pieces.

But unfortunately, the initiative is now in the hands of the other party. There is a large-caliber revolver pointed at him under the table, and there is a sniper rifle pointed at his head outside. After he became famous, he has never been so embarrassed. Pass.

"Let's think about it, based on the 14% tax rate of recreational marijuana that is already legal in Los Angeles, your product is obviously much better than that, even if it is twice the tax rate, it's not an exaggeration, right?"

Ron smiled meanly, and continued before Uncle Fried Chicken could speak: "Also, including the local 10.5% luxury tax."

"Wait! Why is there such a thing as a luxury tax!" Uncle Fried Chicken was stunned.

"Of course the luxury tax is because it is a luxury, so you have to pay the luxury tax~"

Ron said as a matter of course: "The price of 35 US dollars per gram should be considered a luxury like caviar, right? Of course, if you have any opinions, I welcome you to complain to the FBI~"

Complain to the FBI?What is the difference between surrender and self-surrender?what should i sayHey, here is an IRS tax officer who is taxing me indiscriminately. The powder I sell is obviously super clean, but he wants to charge me high taxes for luxury goods!
Believe it or not, the FBI agents would smile and take themselves down, and then use Uncle Fried Chicken's money to hold a whole month's PARTY, and write a thank you letter to Ron?

"Okay, I'll give it to you, is there anything else?" Uncle Fried Chicken's hand holding the pen was already trembling, purely out of anger.

He had never seen such a brazen person.

"Of course, your business belongs to food no matter how you look at it, right? After all, they are all used for food. In this case, it will be considered as food tax. Although there are no procedures such as quarantine, the tax cannot be ignored. Forget it, and... Add it all together, let’s calculate your 70% tax rate.”

Ron snapped his fingers and calculated for Uncle Fried Chicken. He patted the table for the last time and said with a look of righteousness.

(End of this chapter)