My wife and I sponsor a child from Uganda named Nabbimba. We have been keeping in contact for quite some time now, but so far the relationship has been very one sided. All the little bastard does is take, take, take. Sure, he writes us back every now and again about life in his village and we of course respond in kind.
Dear African child we sponsor,
We are super awesome Americans. How is life in your other country that is not America land of awesome. Blah, blah, blah…
Every year we graciously give tens of dollars to that ingrate and every year we get nothing in return. Because we make slightly above subsistence, Uncle Sam has decided we owe him lots of money, but that senile top hatted old hag is about to get his. This year we’re finally claiming a dependent.
We originally planned on doing this through our daughter, but Uncle Sam and I apparently disagree on the definition of dependent. Just because my daughter happens to exist inside my wife’s womb, why should she be denied the joy of giving her parents extra money. It’s fetus discrimination and I will not stand for it!
I’ve been to enough late night Taco Bell and grocery store runs over the last nine months to know how much that little
parasite bundle of joy depends on us to feed her. She is a voracious eater who really enjoys her tacos and ice cream. We’ve given so much money to the taco and ice cream establishments in our area that many have combined forces and are creating specialized ice cream tacos. Still, none of this matters.
Despite the additional maternity clothes, baby room decorating, and all the other investments that have been made in the last year there will be no reciprocation. Since our daughter selfishly refused to be born prematurely to accommodate the coming tax season, mommy and daddy will have to do without. Or will they? Cue Nabbimba.
Nabbimba was the womb free solution to my dependent dilemma. According to all the letters I will gladly redistribute to the IRS should they refute any of my claims, we helped him purchase clothes, school supplies, and even the occasional food item. Plus, I feel it’s only fair we adjust for overseas inflation. Therefore, our measly twenty dollar monthly investment amounts to hundreds of actual third world dollars. He’s practically swimming in rhino bling. The members of his village have probably made him chieftain by now.
With a quick check of the dependent box, our one sided parasitic relationship has now become the mutually beneficial parasitic relationship everybody dreams about. Like the good bacteria cleaning out invaders of my dirty intestinal flora (see: taco section) Nabbimba was eating away at my savings while simultaneously reinvesting profit come tax season. He’s like the really good cultured yogurt of the adopted overseas third world.
This tax season the sword of damocles dangling overhead under the guidance of bloodthirsty Uncle Sam will have to cut through a heavy layer of third world dependency before it chops away at my savings.