Classroom
Teacher: "Children, this week's assignment is very important. You must write an essay titled 'What My Parents Do for a Living.'"
Yoonso, to himself: Easy. Mom is a freelancer… Sort of… And also… uh…
Teacher: "The essay should be detailed, at least two pages long. Use examples and descriptions!"
Yoonso, still thinking: Okay, two pages… Well… 'My mom works from home. All the time. I don't always know what she does, but it's called freelancing.' Done. Ha-ha.
Teacher: "Yoonso, did you write down the assignment?"
Yoonso: "Yeah, yeah! Of course!"
Teacher: "Good. Tomorrow in class, everyone will read their essays aloud!"
Yoonso, panicking: "WHAT?"
Evening at Home
Yoonso sat at the table, staring blankly at a piece of paper.
Yoonso: "Alright… Mom, what exactly do you do for work?"
Mom, lazily scrolling through her phone: "Freelancing."
Yoonso: "And what exactly do you do?"
Mom, shrugging: "Work."
Yoonso: "On what?"
Mom: "Various things."
Yoonso: "Do you realize that's not an answer?"
Mom: "Do you realize that freelancing means working on various things?"
Yoonso: "Have you ever even filed a tax return?"
Mom: "Oh, here we go… Your father and his accounting were enough for me."
Yoonso, to himself: Right, Father has his accounting, and Mom… has mysterious activities that make money, but no one knows how.
Yoonso: "Alright… What about father?"
Mom, looking away: "We're… taking a break."
Yoonso: "I'm not involved in this."
Mom: "Technically, yes. That's called 'financial literacy.'"
Yoonso: "That's called 'where's my allowance'!"
Yoonso, sighing: "Looks like I'll have to get creative…"
The Next Day at School
Teacher: "Alright, Yoonso, your turn to read your essay."
Yoonso, reading from his paper: "My mom is a freelancer. That means she works for herself. She does many important things that no one understands, but they make money."
Class, giggling.
Yoonso: "My father is busy with work."
Teacher: "Sounds interesting, Yoonso. And what exactly does your father do?"
Yoonso, freezing: "Uhh… accounting…? I do not know when I did not talk to him, he talked about accounting."
Class: "Pfff!"
Teacher, nodding: "Well, that's certainly an original approach. Good job."
Yoonso, sighing in relief: Phew, that was close…
Morty's Dark Arts shop. The necromancer Morty sits at a desk, flipping through a stack of papers. His familiar, the reptiloid Greg, peers over his shoulder.
Morty: …Fifty-three percent tax on dark magic?!
Greg: Plus fifteen percent for necromancy.
Morty: This is robbery!
Greg: It's taxes.
Morty: One day, I will raise an army of the dead and destroy the tax office.
Greg: That will be difficult. They have paladins.
Morty: Whispers. Damn it.
The door suddenly bursts open. Tax inspectors storm into the shop.
Inspector: Morty Necromantis! You've been evading taxes for three years!
Morty: Panicked. Three?! I thought it was two!
Greg: We overestimated our ability to hide.
Inspector: You have two options: pay your debt or—
At that moment, a heavy airbag falls from the ceiling, slamming into Morty and launching him into the wall.
Greg: …That wasn't in the plan.
Morty: Dazed. I saw the light…
Greg: That's a lamp.
Morty: I understand now… I need to start a new life!
Inspector: …Excuse me, what?
Morty: Eyes burning with determination. I will abandon dark magic! I will change! I will become… virtuous!
Greg: You hit your head.
Inspector: So… are you paying your taxes?
Morty: No, I'm going on a new path!
Morty throws a smoke bomb to the ground. When the smoke clears, he's still standing there.
Inspector: …
Greg: We forgot to open the window.
Morty: Quietly. Run.
They are about to jump through the window, but the league of heroes enters the room.
"There is a conversation necromantis"