Oh, great. That's just great. I don't want you hanging out with that giraffe-boy anymore.
Why? Well, first of all, because I said so. I'm your mother, and you should know by now to do as I say. Just look at the way he dresses! Spots!? And that tongue! Did he dye it black to look cool? You think that's cool? He looks like a creep.
And a hoodlum.
Have you been smoking grass?
DON'T LAUGH AT ME.
You know what I mean;
Well, you better not have. No lamb of mine is stupid enough to take drugs and spend their time getting into trouble with street-rats. And you're not sleeping over at his mother's apartment ever again, as far as I'm concerned, so just forget about that. Your father will hear about this, too, and you better get your act together before he does.
Son. Listen to your mother.