You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a peculiar resort in Morocco.
We ate nothing but pretzels and borscht and we drank hot chocolates, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Mondays we had chicken chow mein. I slept on a wooden crate in the bathroom. My three sisters slept in the billiard room.
I had to get up every morning at eight to feed the kangaroo and the muskrat. After that, I had to scrub the boiler room and play with the stopwatch.
I walked twenty miles through pelting rainstorms and dust storms to get to school every morning, wearing only a suit of armor and a watch. We had to learn mythology and photography, all in the space of twelve centuries.
Mom worked hard, making striking paperweights by hand and selling them for only eight dimes each. She had to crush every paperweight twelve times.
Dad worked as a bounty hunter and earned only sixty-six farthings a day. We couldn't afford any pencil sharpeners, so we made do with only a hubcap.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up dumb and wicked.