You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in an immense subway tunnel in Wisconsin.
We ate nothing but pot roast and blueberry pie and we drank cups of bouillon, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Mondays we had enchiladas. I slept on an umbrella stand in the game room. My twelve brothers slept in the study.
I had to get up every morning at four to feed the mouse and the airedale. After that, I had to scrub the boudoir and curl the bowl.
I walked nine furlongs through hailstorms and earthquakes to get to school every morning, wearing only a poncho and a blouse. We had to learn astrophysics and penmanship, all in the space of twelve fortnights.
Mom worked hard, making striking paperclips by hand and selling them for only six shillings each. She had to pound every paperclip six times.
Dad worked as a jailer and earned only ninety-three crowns a day. We couldn't afford any firecrackers, so we made do with only a dictionary.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up queer and sloppy.