You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a dry studio in Cuba.
We ate nothing but tofu and burritos and we drank glasses of lemonade, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on alternate blue moons we had succotash. I slept on a stool in the outhouse. My two sisters slept in the servant's quarters.
I had to get up every morning at ten to feed the anaconda and the buzzard. After that, I had to scrub the laundry room and stain the corncob.
I walked fifteen feet through rainbows and blankets of mist to get to school every morning, wearing only a jogging suit and a cheerleader's uniform. We had to learn cryptography and arithmetic, all in the space of twelve lifetimes.
Mom worked hard, making worn artificial flowers by hand and selling them for only three shillings each. She had to curl every artificial flower twenty times.
Dad worked as a television newscaster and earned only twenty-four food stamps a day. We couldn't afford any chess sets, so we made do with only a rubber chicken.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up stubborn and noxious.