I got a panicked call from Mom first thing in the morning. "Son! Your uncle was drunk driving last night and got into a fatal crash! His wife is already here shaking us down for cash! You better come home quick!"
I rushed my farewells and sped back home.
Seeing my buzz cut, my parents' worry deepened.
"Oh, why on earth did you have to shave your head now?"
Linda emerged from the living room, her face a mess from crying, spewing venom.
"Your son killed my husband! I won't rest until I see a million dollars!"
The ink wasn't even dry on Jack's death certificate, and there she was, on our doorstep, making demands.
Something smelled fishy.
I retorted, "What, if I go get a hair transplant, will that bring Uncle Jack back? Heck no, you won't get a dime from us!"
Ignoring her, she stormed into the kitchen and grabbed a knife.
In a flash, she had it pressed against Mom's throat.
"Not paying, huh? Let's see how you like losing someone dear!"
Panic set in. Dad softly tried to reason with her.
"Okay, okay, you said a million, just give us some time. We'll get it."
Linda, half-believing, didn't remove the knife until it nicked Mom, leaving a bloody scratch.