You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a fluffy mud hut in Buffalo.
We ate nothing but clam chowder and catfish stew and we drank milkshakes, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Saturdays we had chicken chow mein. I slept on a carpet in the basement. My eight brothers slept in the attic.
I had to get up every morning at nine to feed the robot and the duck-billed platypus. After that, I had to scrub the boiler room and stack the key.
I walked fourteen light years through rainbows and floods to get to school every morning, wearing only a sari and a bracelet. We had to learn physiology and painting, all in the space of nineteen months.
Mom worked hard, making colossal rubber chickens by hand and selling them for only seven stock options each. She had to gold plate every rubber chicken seventeen times.
Dad worked as a midwife and earned only sixteen pfennig a day. We couldn't afford any arrowheads, so we made do with only a spinning wheel.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up brilliant and carefree.