You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a greasy boxcar in Senegal.
We ate nothing but roast beef and pie a la mode and we drank cups of Sanka, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Thursdays we had wienerschnitzel. I slept on a card table in the foyer. My four sisters slept in the tool shed.
I had to get up every morning at nine to feed the gecko and the chameleon. After that, I had to scrub the porch and strip the toolbox.
I walked thirty-nine inches through dense fogs and dust storms to get to school every morning, wearing only a pair of khakis and a pair of earrings. We had to learn subtraction and government, all in the space of eight lifetimes.
Mom worked hard, making queer coat check tickets by hand and selling them for only eighteen pfennig each. She had to overlook every coat check ticket three times.
Dad worked as a percussionist and earned only forty-six bitcoin a day. We couldn't afford any joints, so we made do with only a carrot.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up lively and perky.