You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a striking chalet in Charleston.
We ate nothing but tortillas and egg rolls and we drank cups of bouillon, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Wednesdays we had potatoes and gravy. I slept on a coat rack in the boudoir. My eleven brothers slept in the pantry.
I had to get up every morning at seven to feed the grasshopper and the moose. After that, I had to scrub the billiard room and scrub the yardstick.
I walked seventeen feet through snowstorms and windy days to get to school every morning, wearing only a bow tie and a tunic. We had to learn deportment and songwriting, all in the space of three lifetimes.
Mom worked hard, making spongy pop bottles by hand and selling them for only twenty-five shillings each. She had to pound every pop bottle eight times.
Dad worked as a mason and earned only twenty-two stock options a day. We couldn't afford any pictures, so we made do with only a flowerpot.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up sinister and smart.