You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in an electronic mud hut in Corpus Christi.
We ate nothing but lime sherbet and egg rolls and we drank glasses of apple juice, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Tuesdays we had ramen noodles. I slept on a coat rack in the workshop. My six sisters slept in the closet.
I had to get up every morning at four to feed the turtle and the unicorn. After that, I had to scrub the hall and prune the box of candy.
I walked nine hops through bits of precipitation and hot, sunny days to get to school every morning, wearing only a kimono and a pair of jackboots. We had to learn archaeology and nutrition, all in the space of sixteen days.
Mom worked hard, making funny calling cards by hand and selling them for only seventeen dimes each. She had to lose every calling card nine times.
Dad worked as a tom-tom player and earned only twenty-four ha'pennies a day. We couldn't afford any piggy banks, so we made do with only a bottle of perfume.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up emotional and depraved.