You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a gross park bench in Toledo.
We ate nothing but pecan pie and lime sherbet and we drank gin sours, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Thursdays we had ham. I slept on a fainting couch in the patio. My eight brothers slept in the living room.
I had to get up every morning at eleven to feed the swan and the grizzly bear. After that, I had to scrub the den and bless the ironing board.
I walked thirty-seven fathoms through palls of doom and drizzles to get to school every morning, wearing only a sweatshirt and a trench coat. We had to learn folklore and math, all in the space of eighteen centuries.
Mom worked hard, making thick rocks by hand and selling them for only five pennies each. She had to identify every rock nine times.
Dad worked as a goldsmith and earned only thirteen pesos a day. We couldn't afford any chains, so we made do with only a comb.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up stubby and considerate.