Scarily Frugal

My mother-in-law is extremely frugal.

She reuses paper others have discarded, carefully saving the unmarked portions. She even takes the black waste oil from the kitchen range hood and uses it to cook our meals. She says, "Frugality is a virtue—it brings blessings!"

I try tirelessly to convince her otherwise, throwing out all her filthy items to protect my family's health.

But while she praises me to my face, behind my back, she uses my baby's food scissors to clip her grimy toenails.

My child eventually dies of a lung infection, leaving me heartbroken. My mother-in-law, however, points her finger at me, saying I'm unlucky and that I've brought misfortune to their family. Even my husband blames me.

In the end, they use a knitting needle to pierce my throat and stab me to death.

When I open my eyes again, I find myself back on the day I first see her picking up dirty paper.

The first thing I do is hide all the high-quality tissue paper I had stocked up on before my pregnancy, pretending I knew nothing.

She calls these blessings, right? Fine. The blessings of this miserly frugality—she can reap them all herself!

I watched with my own eyes as my husband, Rufus Truman, used the "specially treated" toilet paper prepared by my mother-in-law, Hilda Mane.

After he used it, Hilda even went up to him and asked how it felt.

Rubbing his backside thoughtfully, Rufus replied, "It's great! The texture is really soft."

I couldn't help but laugh out loud. Of course, the texture was good—Hilda had spent over an hour meticulously "selecting" it. She had picked them out of her little packet of "special" toilet paper.

Hilda shot me a glare but then smirked triumphantly. She lifted her chin proudly and boasted, "Of course! I got all of this for free!"

Rufus probably thought she had snagged a good deal at some supermarket. He gave her a thumbs-up and praised her, "You're so thrifty, Mom. I must say that you're really good at saving money."

That compliment made her even happier. She grinned and said gleefully, "I'll get more of those next time."

But her joy didn't last long.

That very night, Rufus started suffering from severe pain and itching.

He was scratching at his bottom and yelling, "Help! My butt is killing me!"

Before he was even done complaining, Hilda had barged into our room. Without a word, she yanked down his pants and underwear. I was Rufus' wife, yet the way Hilda handled him was way more intimate and unabashed.

She examined his rear closely and cried out in alarm.

It was all red and swollen. At that point, it had gotten so painful that he was writhing on the floor.

Rufus shrieked, "Mom! I need to go to the hospital! Take me to the hospital now!"

Hilda hesitated for a moment but quickly refused. "No! Absolutely not!"

She was panicking. In fact, she was terrified that the secret about her "specially treated" toilet paper would be exposed.

Nevertheless, I smirked and dialed 911 without hesitation.

Hilda became immensely flustered. She slapped her thigh in exasperation and exclaimed loudly, "No! Don't do that! An ambulance ride costs a lot of money a trip! This isn't a serious illness. He just needs to tough it out!"

I shook my head. "Mom, this is a medical emergency. We can't ignore it."

Rufus kept wailing and was nearly on his knees as he begged Hilda.

In my previous life, Rufus had never suffered like this under my protection! He had no idea that his pain was entirely Hilda's doing.

He always said Hilda was a frugal woman. But after she moved into my house after I gave birth, I realized she wasn't frugal—she was downright miserly to a fault!

She often picked up discarded toilet paper from the trash bins in public restrooms. After removing various pieces that were stained red or yellow, she folded the remaining ones neatly and disguised them as clean paper.

When I found out, I threw them all away before anyone could use them and replaced them with the best, most expensive toilet paper that I purchased myself.

To my surprise, Hilda started criticizing me for being wasteful because I spent a lot of money on buying toilet paper. To make up for the money spent on buying toilet paper, she even used waste oil collected from the kitchen range hood to cook meals for us!

Of course, I was enraged when I discovered what she'd been doing. I did all I could to correct her mindset and behavior to protect my family's safety.

Hilda pretended to understand and agree on the surface. However, she secretly harbored a grudge against me.

To save on buying nail clippers, she secretly used my son's baby food scissors to trim her toenails. As a result, my son, Ralph Truman, contracted a lung infection and died before he'd even reached a year old.

When I confronted her, she played the victim. "How could you blame me for this? You're so ungrateful! I only did this for the family! Frugality is a virtue! It's a blessing to a family when someone practices it!"

As if that wasn't enough, she accused me of being a jinx and bringing misfortune to their family.

Before I could even argue back, Rufus slapped me hard. He blamed me for not taking care of Ralph properly and said I wasn't fit to be a mother. As punishment, they tied me up and watched as Hilda stabbed me to death with a knitting needle.

All my sacrifices and efforts to protect those I considered my family meant nothing to them. This time, I made up my mind to not intervene and let nature run its course.