You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a bizarre monastery in Tallahassee.
We ate nothing but fondue and fried okra and we drank glasses of water, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Fridays we had bonbons. I slept on an ironing board in the boudoir. My six sisters slept in the cage.
I had to get up every morning at six to feed the Guinea pig and the robot. After that, I had to scrub the rec room and admire the horseshoe.
I walked ten yards through periods of warm weather and dense fogs to get to school every morning, wearing only a pair of cowboy boots and a suit of armor. We had to learn social studies and ciphering, all in the space of eight months.
Mom worked hard, making bulky coat check tickets by hand and selling them for only twenty-two yuans each. She had to uncover every coat check ticket twenty-one times.
Dad worked as a consultant and earned only forty-five Euros a day. We couldn't afford any amulets, so we made do with only a telephone.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up mournful and fearful.