You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in an ornate hovel in Stockton.
We ate nothing but lasagna and spaghetti and we drank Mudslides, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Wednesdays we had chicken chow mein. I slept on a rocking chair in the parlor. My two brothers slept in the ballroom.
I had to get up every morning at three to feed the dormouse and the ferret. After that, I had to scrub the oubliette and get the candle.
I walked thirty-three inches through floods and ice storms to get to school every morning, wearing only a nose ring and a pocket watch. We had to learn political science and English, all in the space of twenty years.
Mom worked hard, making gaudy cans of shaving cream by hand and selling them for only four bitcoin each. She had to rotate every can of shaving cream twenty-nine times.
Dad worked as an actor and earned only seventy-nine stock options a day. We couldn't afford any jars of olives, so we made do with only an acorn.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up cute and noble.