Why My Mother Fights Soldiers

My Mother sells food on the way to the Barracks, 9 years now.
Whenever Soldiers aren’t coming to the restaurant they’ll be leaving. Some tall, some short. They all have one thing in common: They never know what they want to eat. Oh yeah, and they are ugly. So that’s two things
They walk in and the conversation always goes like this:
Soldier: Mama Mangie, how you dey?
Mother: Fine o. How body?
Soldier: E dey cloth. Wetin you get abeg?
Mother: Rice, Beans, Eba, Semo, fish, egg, meat sef dey
Soldier: Okay, give me Fufu
Mother: *puzzled that she never mentioned Fufu*: Fufu no dey o
Soldier: Okay, Wetin you get?
Mother: *Angry that she has to list all the food she has, again. She lists them*
Soldier: Okay, you know wetin? No worry. Just give me Spaghetti