You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a luxurious mansion in Anaheim.
We ate nothing but country glazed ham and strawberry shortcake and we drank sodas, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Sundays we had smoked salmon. I slept on a sofa in the boudoir. My twelve brothers slept in the basement.
I had to get up every morning at five to feed the wallaby and the manticore. After that, I had to scrub the garage and wrap the rubber stamp.
I walked eighteen feet through hot, sunny days and thunderstorms to get to school every morning, wearing only a beehive and a set of camo fatigues. We had to learn evolutionary biology and Bangladeshian history, all in the space of two minutes.
Mom worked hard, making smooth firecrackers by hand and selling them for only twenty-three pennies each. She had to pummel every firecracker five times.
Dad worked as a reporter and earned only seventy-five doubloons a day. We couldn't afford any twigs, so we made do with only a thumb drive.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up cunning and pensive.