Lightning McQueen

Actually, I don't write on Mondays. On Sundays, I light the fireplace in my house in the forest, sip tea or coffee, and enjoy the liqueur I make from the cherry and apricot trees in my garden.

While I was living through one such Sunday, the news suddenly dropped in front of me that a tax would be levied on credit cards.

It never ends.

I had an article in my head that I was planning about Mr. Şimşek.

I said, it's a coincidence.

We had a brother-in-law.

I say 'had,' because they kicked him out.

One day my phone rang.

He said he needed money urgently.

I sent him the money he asked for.

Before he even paid it back, he called again and asked for urgent money once more.

I asked why.

There was a bargain plot of land, he said.

He was going to buy it for one and sell it for five.

Then another call.

And then another call.

It turned out our brother-in-law had gotten hooked on gambling.

That godless roulette swallows whatever you give it.

We threw a bit of our own zakat into a bottomless pit.

It turned out that before me, the brother-in-law had buried the fitra and zakat of other relatives into slot machines as well.

When there was nothing left in his hands, and on top of that he got into debt with the people of Tonya, the family council gathered.

They asked the brother-in-law how much the debt was, so we could pool our money and pay it off.

The brother-in-law wouldn't say a word.

His tongue wouldn't loosen.

He was just mumbling something, that's all.

We realized that the brother-in-law had no idea about the amount of the debt.

We started to wait.

As we waited, the creditors lined up.

The amount was increasing every day.

We saw that the debt had far exceeded the amount that could be paid.

Not even the property of the whole clan or the entire public could pay the debt.

Everyone felt a sense of relief that the rest of our money stayed in our pockets.

What happened, you ask?

We sacrificed the brother-in-law, and the debt was wiped out.

They can settle the account in the afterlife now.

While writing this story, I thought of both Mr. Şimşek and an old couplet came to mind.

The baggy-trousered Ottoman

The saddle-sore Ottoman

Neither sows nor reaps, but the Ottoman shares in the eating

In other words, Mr. Şimşek has made up his mind.

There is no sitting comfortably by the fireplace and drinking tax-free liqueur.

Since you are having fun drinking tax-free liqueur, take this.

He will collect the tax I missed, just like that.

Best of luck.

We are the patriotic children of the Kuvayi Milliye, state-oriented to the core.

Who says we avoid taxes?

For my part, I accept paying 200,000 liras in taxes.

If necessary, 1,000,000 liras is also ready.

Let the order come, and bam, it's in Mr. Şimşek's account.

But I have a feeling that this business is going to end up like our brother-in-law's situation.