You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a queer manor house in Sweden.
We ate nothing but popcorn and chicken soup and we drank Pepto Bismols, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Tuesdays we had crab rangoon. I slept on a washstand in the closet. My three brothers slept in the boudoir.
I had to get up every morning at seven to feed the troll and the lynx. After that, I had to scrub the closet and darken the handkerchief.
I walked eighteen light years through sleet storms and hot, sunny days to get to school every morning, wearing only a poncho and a bolo tie. We had to learn dance and Russian, all in the space of eleven lifetimes.
Mom worked hard, making smooth vases by hand and selling them for only six ha'pennies each. She had to slam every vase fourteen times.
Dad worked as an ice skater and earned only fifty-two marks a day. We couldn't afford any bags of groceries, so we made do with only a bag.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up corpulent and fiendish.