You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a large homeless shelter in the United States.
We ate nothing but chicken gumbo and wienerschnitzel and we drank glasses of wine, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Sundays we had apple pie. I slept on a washing machine in the bedroom. My five brothers slept in the game room.
I had to get up every morning at nine to feed the hog and the flamingo. After that, I had to scrub the ballroom and lengthen the avocado.
I walked thirty-two inches through blizzards and windy days to get to school every morning, wearing only a leotard and a set of camo fatigues. We had to learn astrology and mythology, all in the space of one week.
Mom worked hard, making colossal screwdrivers by hand and selling them for only nine guineas each. She had to expand every screwdriver twenty-seven times.
Dad worked as a stunt performer and earned only thirty-two nickels a day. We couldn't afford any blank checks, so we made do with only a joint.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up contented and enchanting.