Look here, you ordered such beautiful poached eggs for yourself, and only got your mother that ugly boa. But it’s not a boa you say, it’s only that the coat you gave her, which was your old coat, had a hood with false hair for insulation. I’ve had enough of your perversions. Look at this poor mother—she couldn’t afford to put her son in a mental ward; do you know what she had to do instead? She sat with her son in a coffee shop across from a child molester all night. She couldn’t afford to put him in a mental ward—the poor creature—so she had to settle for the next best thing—make him spend one night sitting across from a child molester. I’ve had enough of your shit—you go on with your communism, but you order that lovely pair of poached eggs for yourself, merely buy your mother that repulsive boa, and then steal her CD of The Nutcracker Suite. It’s sick!