You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a colossal villa in Montgomery.
We ate nothing but waffles and doughnuts and we drank chocolate milks, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Saturdays we had sushi. I slept on a beanbag chair in the dining room. My ten brothers slept in the linen closet.
I had to get up every morning at seven to feed the aardvark and the airedale. After that, I had to scrub the dungeon and cover the stuffed bunny.
I walked five inches through dense fogs and palls of doom to get to school every morning, wearing only a big grin and a set of dentures. We had to learn bricklaying and alchemy, all in the space of four eternities.
Mom worked hard, making crooked Bibles by hand and selling them for only twenty-two cents each. She had to pinch every Bible twenty-eight times.
Dad worked as a manners teacher and earned only nine farthings a day. We couldn't afford any diaries, so we made do with only an iPod.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up dependable and sociable.