Bowsie!
Bowser Eustace Koopa!
What's this I hear about you making fun of nice young men with good, hard-working jobs, and nice young men who love their mothers? Making fun of boys who love their mothers? Don't ask how I know, a mother has her ways, a mother has her ways, Bowsie. You break your poor mother's heart, Bowsie!
Bowser, your father, may he rest in peace, and I didn't raise you to make fun of boys who love their mothers. Their mothers! We raised you to be a good boy, a good son. And look at how you repay us? Making fun of nice, hard working young men and boys who love their mothers?
The only blessing is that your father, God rest his soul, isn't here to hear about this. He had a poor heart, your father, and this would have done him in.
Bowser, remember when you were a little Bowsie, I used to bounce you up and down on my knee and you told me I was the only girl you'd ever love? Oh Bowsie, whatever happened to that nice little boy I raised? He loved his mother. And he knew not to make fun of nice boys who loved their mothers, too.
Now you never visit, you never call, you never even send a letter. How hard is it to send a letter, Bowser? You teach English, don't you? You can write a letter to your mother every once in awhile, Bowsie. It isn't hard. Just a letter every once in awhile, Bowsie. Could you at least give your mother that? Aren't I worth that much to you?
And what about my grandchildren, Bowsie? Doesn't a mother have rights? Doesn't a mother have the right to see her grandchildren? I haven't seen my grandchildren in months. I hear you've got Junior here at school with you. Would it be too much for you to bring Junior over to visit sometime? To let your own mother see her grandson?
Oh that your father, God rest his soul, didn't live to see you abandon your poor mother, or live to see the day you'd make fun of nice boys who work hard and who love their mothers. What lucky mothers those boys have, Bowsie.
You've broke your poor mother's heart, Bowsie. You've broke her poor heart.
What's this I hear about you making fun of nice young men with good, hard-working jobs, and nice young men who love their mothers? Making fun of boys who love their mothers? Don't ask how I know, a mother has her ways, a mother has her ways, Bowsie. You break your poor mother's heart, Bowsie!
Bowser, your father, may he rest in peace, and I didn't raise you to make fun of boys who love their mothers. Their mothers! We raised you to be a good boy, a good son. And look at how you repay us? Making fun of nice, hard working young men and boys who love their mothers?
The only blessing is that your father, God rest his soul, isn't here to hear about this. He had a poor heart, your father, and this would have done him in.
Bowser, remember when you were a little Bowsie, I used to bounce you up and down on my knee and you told me I was the only girl you'd ever love? Oh Bowsie, whatever happened to that nice little boy I raised? He loved his mother. And he knew not to make fun of nice boys who loved their mothers, too.
Now you never visit, you never call, you never even send a letter. How hard is it to send a letter, Bowser? You teach English, don't you? You can write a letter to your mother every once in awhile, Bowsie. It isn't hard. Just a letter every once in awhile, Bowsie. Could you at least give your mother that? Aren't I worth that much to you?
And what about my grandchildren, Bowsie? Doesn't a mother have rights? Doesn't a mother have the right to see her grandchildren? I haven't seen my grandchildren in months. I hear you've got Junior here at school with you. Would it be too much for you to bring Junior over to visit sometime? To let your own mother see her grandson?
Oh that your father, God rest his soul, didn't live to see you abandon your poor mother, or live to see the day you'd make fun of nice boys who work hard and who love their mothers. What lucky mothers those boys have, Bowsie.
You've broke your poor mother's heart, Bowsie. You've broke her poor heart.