I doubt you're getting a check.

Yesterday, my mother's car broke down. Naturally, this meant my mother broke down as well. Once she stopped berating my father (who was at fault for the breakdown by virtue of having been behind the steering wheel when it happened) she decided AAA would pick up the car and bring it to the dealer.

I was waiting for my parents while this all unfolded. I had no idea what was happening, of course, until she called me in total hysterics (and I mean total) on her pay-as-you-go cell phone which was crafted in 1998 by elves. Her screaming into the phone was punctuated by shouting abuse at my father, who was audibly grunting and cursing in the background.

While on the phone, I'm sitting in a Chinese restaurant dipping noodles into a bowl of duck sauce, contemplating the vegetables. Of course I have to then pick my parents up. My father leans into the window before my mother reaches the car and asks me if I have any connections who can get Thorazine. I drive them to the Chinese restaurant where she proceeds to use her antediluvian cell phone to contact Toyota. I have no idea what happened prior to the moment at which she hollered, "I can't hear a ()&$@!*& thing!" Then she hurled herself into a chair.

"What happened?" (Guess who asked that.)

"I can't hear a damn thing. And then this moron at Toyota wants my name? What does she need my name for? Is she cutting me a damn check?"