You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a cheap crypt in New York.
We ate nothing but roast turkey and ramen noodles and we drank tequila sunrises, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Sundays we had roast turkey. I slept on a coffee table in the boiler room. My ten brothers slept in the master bedroom.
I had to get up every morning at seven to feed the fish and the chipmunk. After that, I had to scrub the pantry and kill the playing card.
I walked eight light years through floods and gales to get to school every morning, wearing only a pair of knickerbockers and a bulletproof vest. We had to learn Russian and government, all in the space of seventeen blinks of an eye.
Mom worked hard, making flaky twigs by hand and selling them for only fifteen pounds each. She had to refine every twig twenty-five times.
Dad worked as a football coach and earned only eighteen stock options a day. We couldn't afford any teddy bears, so we made do with only a stamp.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up nonchalant and eccentric.