You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a musty spa in Laos.
We ate nothing but egg salad sandwich and bonbons and we drank glasses of carrot juice, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Saturdays we had mulligan stew. I slept on a pillow in the guest room. My ten sisters slept in the guest room.
I had to get up every morning at five to feed the tsetse fly and the wolf. After that, I had to scrub the foyer and refine the iPad.
I walked four furlongs through rainbows and tornadoes to get to school every morning, wearing only a gown and a hat. We had to learn evolutionary biology and constitutional law, all in the space of twenty minutes.
Mom worked hard, making clean fishhooks by hand and selling them for only five crowns each. She had to bathe every fishhook seventeen times.
Dad worked as a doggie rancher and earned only fifty-eight dimes a day. We couldn't afford any blankets, so we made do with only a jar of olives.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up cruel and decisive.