A/N: Hi All! Sorry about the delay in a new story, but I have been held hostage at work figuring out Budget and Planning figures for next year. The below story is just a hint of the frustration and mental torture I have to go through each year. Don't be fooled! Some of the True Evil in this world is Paperwork (especially Profit & Loss sheets)!!!!

Disclaimer: Do not own Sky High, my house, my car or my dignity. Mr Taylor is based on several people I have met and really don't like.

The Evilness of Paperwork

I really hate this part of my job. I can handle the fighting, the physical pain, even death, but this…

"So, Mr…Peace. I see you are here for your annual budget review."

I don't know how he manages it, but the look he gives me is even more condescending than his tone of voice.

He is a small, rodent-like man with one of those little moustaches that looks like it was stuck on his face, rather than grown. He has all of my submitted paperwork lying on the desk in front of him. Every so often he will look at it over the top of his glasses with an almost disgusted look on his face, like it isn't paperwork, but something he scraped off the bottom of his shoe.

Normally at this point I would walk out, possibly melting his desk set as I go, but since this …person… is controlling my purse strings for the next financial year, I curb my temper and try to be polite.

"Yes, I am sir."

"Please, call me Mr Taylor."

I don't know why, but that just made this whole thing a little bit worse.

He starts shuffling the paper, and then pulls out a small file. I can see my old school photo paper-clipped to the inside cover. "In order to have the correct information, I will need you to confirm some details. You have been an active Hero for two years, correct?

"Yes sir…um, Mr Taylor."

"And you have been based in Maxville for the entire time?"

"No, Mr Taylor. For my first year I was in Fiji, apprenticed to Prince Meli the Firebrand."

"Good, good. Did you enjoy it there?"

"Not really. Too many tourists and not enough good Chinese restaurants."

"Good, good. And finally, in the past you have worked out your own budget?"

"Actually no, Mr Taylor."

He seems almost startled at this, like it was sacrilege not to have crunched my own numbers.

"And why not?"

"Well, the first year Prince Meli, as my mentor, did it on my behalf."

"Yes, yes, that is acceptable. And last year?"

"My budget assessor last year was Miss O'Neil, and she just told me to leave it with her. I believe you know how that turned out."

"Ah, yes. We have tracked her down to Hawaii. We just need to confirm the resort she is residing in before we can apprehend her."

I really wish I was in Hawaii right now. Lying on a beach…soaking up the sun…just being anywhere but here.

Clearing his throat, Mr Taylor picked up my paperwork and started flipping through it. "For your projected figures for next year; are they based on an percentage increase of last years' spend or on a CPI basis?"

Huh?

"Um, the first one I guess."

The look he gives my paper work changes from disgusted to anticipatory and he starts muttering under his breath. I catch the words "…well. This should be fun…" and feel a cold shiver of dread descend my spine. He finally stops muttering and raises his gaze to me.

"Most of the figures you have supplied are standard so we will just focus on the unique items."

"Unique items sir…(crap!) Mr Taylor?"

"Yes Mr Peace. For example, you have allocated several thousand dollars towards the fireproofing of three standard costumes. Is this really necessary?"

"Well Mr Taylor, I am a Fire-based Super. It may be a little…awkward… having to fight crime naked if I happen to toast my costume."

"True, true, but do you really need three?"

"One for active use, one for when the first is in the wash, and one as a backup if the first two are out of action."

He appears disappointed at the logic behind the argument, makes a small note in the paperwork and flips the page. "Now about your petrol cost forecast…"

The interview continues along the same lines for some time, but it feels like I am winning more than I am losing. I managed to convince him that I cannot swap the steel reinforced climbing line for standard rope, and that sunglasses are necessary to my costume, but concede that a new motorbike is not really necessary as my old one still works fine.

Just as I start to hope that I will depart with most of my budget (and my dignity) intact, he asks the question I have been fearing all day.

"And finally Mr Peace, can you please explain why you have so much money set aside to cover your Destruction of Private & Public Property costs?"

Crap.

Fin.