The clock struck midnight.

Grant the Grapefruit stared at it.

The clock struck 12:01.

Grant blinked.

The clock struck 12:05.

Silence.

Grant slowly lowered the pen.

“…I am five minutes late.”

Across the room, Obesseus gasped like someone had just dropped a tray of biscuits.

“THE TAXES ARE COMING.”

Professor Math froze mid-calculation.

Grant stood up stiffly. “It is a minor administrative delay.”

The lights flickered.

A knock echoed through Snackland Press.

Three slow knocks.

Obesseus dove behind a filing cabinet.

“THEY SMELL THE GRAVY.”

Grant adjusted his tie, but it was trembling.

“No one smells gravy. This is digital submission.”

The door burst open.

In walked… a giant envelope.

It wore sunglasses.

It said NOTICE across its chest.

Obesseus screamed.

“IT WALKING.”

Professor Math fainted into a stack of receipts.

Grant attempted diplomacy. “We apologize for the five-minute delay.”

The envelope tilted its head.

A loud ripping sound echoed.

Paper forms shot out like ninja stars.

Obesseus retaliated immediately.

He hurled a biscuit.

Direct hit.

Grant threw a grapefruit slice like a shuriken.

The envelope dodged.

Professor Math woke up and launched a calculator.

Obesseus grabbed a ladle of gravy and flung it dramatically.

“NO TAX SHALL TAKE MY SAUCE.”

The envelope screeched, stamping the floor with giant red letters:

LATE FEE.

Grant’s monocle nearly popped off.

“Impossible. I schedule everything.”

“You five minutes late!” Obesseus yelled. “You broke time.”

Grant looked at the clock in horror.

“Daylight savings…”

The envelope grew larger.

It unfolded into multiple forms.

Schedules A through Z hovered in the air like hostile paperwork birds.

Obesseus started throwing food indiscriminately.

Sandwich.

Chopsticks.

Donut.

A fraction tile for emotional reasons.

Professor Math attempted to reason with the forms.

“Please! We have itemized deductions!”

The envelope paused.

Grant, sweating citrus oil, shouted:

“Charitable gravy donations!”

Obesseus blinked. “…That a thing?”

Grant whispered urgently, “It is now.”

The envelope trembled.

The red LATE FEE stamp flickered.

Obesseus seized the moment and launched an entire gravy bucket.

The envelope slipped. Forms scattered. Receipts fluttered like defeated confetti.

The door slammed shut.

Silence.

Grant straightened his tie.

“…Next year we file early.”

Obesseus, covered in gravy and powdered sugar, nodded solemnly.

“Taxes tried to take sauce.”

Grant sighed.

“They took five dollars.”

Obesseus froze.

“…THAT FIVE DOLLAR WAS FOR BISCUITS.”

Chaos resumed.