Chapter 51: Sheldon's Audit
The moment Ethan signed the agreement, Sheldon switched into "work mode."
He sat in his designated spot on the couch, a green translucent accountant's visor on his head, face solemn.
Bills and receipts littered the coffee table; he flipped through them while pounding away at a clunky vintage calculator that clacked with every press.
Ethan sat obediently nearby like a patient in the waiting room, ready for the "doctor's" questions.
Leonard, Howard, and Raj flanked him, watching with curiosity.
Just then Penny walked in carrying takeout bags.
"Hey, guys, I brought Cheesecake Factory leftovers—whoa, what is this, Tax Accountant: The Board Game?"
Leonard explained, "Sheldon's doing Ethan's taxes."
"Taxes?" Penny's eyes lit up. "Can I watch? I've always wanted to see how much Ethan makes and decide if I picked the wrong career."
With that she shamelessly circled behind the couch, craning her neck to watch Sheldon check each line item.
Ethan couldn't help asking, "Sheldon… so this really isn't as complicated as I thought, right?"
Sheldon paused, lifted his head slowly. "Ethan, that question is like asking a surgeon: 'Is an appendectomy as easy as trimming a fingernail?'"
"An appendectomy can indeed be straightforward—locate the inflamed appendix, cut it out, suture, done in one procedure."
"But once it's ruptured, infected, the appendix adhered to surrounding tissue and leaking fluid, you must dissect it layer by layer without damaging nearby organs."
He glanced at Ethan's receipts:
"Your tax situation is the kind where the appendix has burst, gone septic, and is contaminating everything around it."
Ethan felt it was overkill. "It can't be that bad…"
Sheldon pulled out a slip. "This treatment income—one dollar? Explain. Did you treat half a hangnail?"
Ethan: "That patient had no money; I only charged a symbolic amount."
Sheldon scoffed. "Symbolic of what? Symbolic of operating at a loss? Next time charge a Snickers bar so I can list it under 'in-kind compensation' and write the visit off as charitable care."
Penny munched her fries. "If candy bars are involved, remember to share with me."
Sheldon glanced back. "Then you'd owe tax on barter income. With every bite you increase Ethan's filing complexity."
He set down the tragic one-dollar receipt and produced the next slip.
"This one: $234.14 for treatment? What's the magical fourteen cents?"
Ethan racked his brain. "Emergency sutures. After I finished, the guy had no time for a receipt, emptied all the cash in his wallet on the counter and ran."
Sheldon was incredulous. "You treated a fugitive? Cash-and-dash?"
Ethan sighed. "He was in a hurry—what could I do?"
Sheldon nodded. "Excellent, you healed his laceration and he left you with a tax laceration."
He kept flipping, then froze.
"This entry says 'Fee $0'—you treated this elderly woman for free?"
Ethan: "She was struggling financially; I didn't charge."
Sheldon stared like a federal prosecutor. "Undocumented charity, in the eyes of the IRS, isn't charity—it's suspicious activity."
Penny blinked. "Wait, doing good deeds is illegal?"
Sheldon said gravely, "In America, doing good deeds is permitted—but you must report them legally."
"If you want to help people pro bono, you have to let the IRS know you're not laundering money, just being demonstrably broke and benevolent."
Ethan asked, "So what do I write?"
Sheldon took a pen and wrote: "Charitable Medical Services."
Then added, "Congratulations, your good deed can now be deducted. You've saved her and officially saved yourself from IRS scrutiny."
He pointed to another entry. "This $200 listed under miscellaneous expenses but not wages—what is it?"
Ethan remembered when Mary quit a few days earlier; he'd handed her an envelope saying, "Thanks for your hard work," never expecting it would trigger Sheldon's tax radar.
He explained the situation to Sheldon.
Sheldon pressed, "Was that money back wages or a personal gift?"
"Does it matter? I just wanted to say thanks."
Sheldon: "Enormous difference! When we're sitting in separate IRS audit rooms being questioned, our stories must align."
Ethan's eyes widened. "Wait, why would we be in separate audit rooms?!"
Sheldon raised a hand. "Don't ask hypotheticals. Point is—do you want it classified as wages or a gift?"
Ethan hesitated. "Which saves more on taxes?"
Sheldon hammered the calculator and delivered cold numbers. "Gift: no tax, but no deduction. Wages: taxable to her, but counts as business expense, lowering your overall tax burden."
He looked up to twist the knife: "Given your current profit margin, wages are better—you need the deduction."
As fewer receipts remained, Sheldon's page-turning slowed.
Suddenly he stopped.
"Here are two wire transfers of one hundred thousand dollars each from different patients—explain." He interrogated:
"What medical procedure is worth that amount? Did you secretly perform open-heart surgery, or harvest organs on the black market?"
The air thickened; everyone held their breath.
Penny's french fry froze halfway to her mouth. "A hundred grand… twice?!"
Ethan rubbed his forehead—finally, the big reveal! He'd racked his brain and still couldn't invent a believable excuse.
With Sheldon's personality, he'd investigate forever, and with Sheldon's IQ no fabricated story would hold up.
So he decided to tell the truth; maybe they'd accept it.
Ethan inhaled. "One had terminal brain cancer, one had terminal lung cancer. Both are in complete remission now."
The living room went so quiet you could hear breathing.
Howard adjusted his glasses. "You mean the kind of terminal where oncologists tell you to get your affairs in order?"
Ethan nodded. "Exactly that kind."
Sheldon stopped typing, speaking slower:
"You… cured two late-stage cancer patients?"
"More or less."
"With surgery? Chemotherapy? Experimental drugs?"
"No surgery, no chemo—just consultation and some... unexplainable therapeutic intervention."
Sheldon shut his laptop, voice eerily calm. "Ethan, if you're going to fabricate a story, at least make it plausible."
Damn it—if I could invent something you'd believe, I wouldn't be telling the truth!
He spread his hands. "Here's what happened: they came in with cancer diagnoses, I re-examined and treated them, they went back for follow-ups, tumors completely gone, hospitals called it probable misdiagnosis."
Penny gaped at the receipts:
"So… you just told them they weren't actually dying, gave them peace of mind, and they paid you a massive consultation fee out of gratitude?"
Self-delusion really is powerful! Ethan instantly found Penny way more endearing than Sheldon—so refreshingly easy to convince.
The guys exchanged looks; compared with actually curing cancer, Penny's version sounded far more believable.
Sheldon stayed silent a moment, then accepted the explanation and said seriously:
"You can't label this 'gratitude payment'—the IRS will suspect money laundering or unreported income."
"The proper classification is—'High-Value Medical Consultation Fee for Second Opinion and Diagnostic Correction Services.'"
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