FORT MYERS — "Love, Sex and the IRS" brings the laughs faster than an audit brings the ulcers. The fluffy (pink slippers!) and frilly (red satin lounging robe!) comedy plays at Off-Broadway Palm through May 2; its the perfect antidote to tax season.

The show, a light comedy about guys-guy roommates - Brendan Cataldo (Jon) and Sean Riley (Leslie) - who declare themselves married on their tax returns only to find the IRS come calling, sets sail for silly from the opening seconds. House lights go up to reveal Riley and Amy Marie McCleary locked in a passionate embrace. "The wedding's not for two weeks, what's the rush?" More kisses. Moans. Fumbling. "When are you going to tell Jon that you can't marry him?"

Handcuffs and the catcher's mask come out after intermission. A German Shepherd meets an untimely end. And poor Mrs. Gill, she'll never be the same. Neither will the poor IRS agent, Mr. Skinner, after McCleary blasts him over the head with a serving platter - the clang resounds through the theater.

The screwball setup screams of classic late 1970s sitcom "Three's Company," or recent Adam Sandler film "I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry." Written in 1979 by William Van Zandt and Jane Milmore, the broad humor and slapstick antics feel a touch unsophisticated in an era where domestic partnership battles are being waged in courtrooms across America. But this is farce, not drama - and it makes you laugh and laugh again.

Riley's grand entrance in a yellow dress, blood-red tights and Kabuki makeup brings a laugh before he says anything. He plays the part to the hilt, mincing across the stage in fluffy pink platform shoes or flopping into a chair (like any man) before crossing his legs in an exaggerated manner. Cataldo - the lying liar who started this mess - works like mad to keep up with the snowballing deception as the doorbell keeps ringing and ringing like some demented portal into comedy hell.

One-note supporting roles turn to comic gold - even upstaging the leads. Paul Bernier's IRS agent chases skirts and shots of bourbon with equal glee. Dick Westlake's alcoholic landlord burbles out lines with perfect timing. Donna Schulte's offender mother drinks like a fish and preaches with the zeal of a hardened sinner. Rachael Endrizzi stomps onstage in silver glitter eyelashes and goes off wailing in handcuffs.

Audiences looking for depth - or characters that act with a modicum of intelligence (the tangle of illogic is maddening, but just roll with it) - should go elsewhere. "Love, Sex and the IRS" bangs the funnybone again and again before wedging in an awkward coda that sees all parties happy and married. If there is a message, it might be that lies are bad and men in dresses are funny. Oh, and don't feed a wig to a German Shepherd.

I've never cheated on my taxes. Have you? E-mail me, csilk@naplesnews.com, find me on Twitter at @napleschris or read my Stage Door theater blog. You can also sign up to receive the Stage Door blog via email.