You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a jagged igloo in Nebraska.
We ate nothing but pie a la mode and tortillas and we drank cups of coffee, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Tuesdays we had refried beans. I slept on a chair in the doghouse. My nine sisters slept in the basement.
I had to get up every morning at twelve to feed the sheep and the Doberman. After that, I had to scrub the porch and hide the daisy.
I walked twenty-two steps through rainbows and windy days to get to school every morning, wearing only a pair of roller skates and a rain coat. We had to learn herbalism and Greek, all in the space of sixteen lifetimes.
Mom worked hard, making bizarre rubber chickens by hand and selling them for only fourteen dimes each. She had to hang every rubber chicken twenty-nine times.
Dad worked as an astrologer and earned only fifty-five francs a day. We couldn't afford any chamber pots, so we made do with only a bowling ball.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up emotional and comely.