You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a queer mobile home in a ghetto.
We ate nothing but clam chowder and egg drop soup and we drank Dr. Peppers, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Thursdays we had cherries jubilee. I slept on an overstuffed chair in the guest room. My ten sisters slept in the front porch.
I had to get up every morning at eight to feed the fish and the manatee. After that, I had to scrub the guest room and vacuum the file folder.
I walked twenty-five fathoms through thunderstorms and downpours to get to school every morning, wearing only a pair of sweatpants and a motorcycle helmet. We had to learn Greek and medicine, all in the space of eighteen decades.
Mom worked hard, making dirty smart phones by hand and selling them for only four food stamps each. She had to re-evaluate every smart phone five times.
Dad worked as a teacher and earned only thirty-eight guineas a day. We couldn't afford any fishing poles, so we made do with only a hand puppet.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up mindless and elderly.