You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a mysterious monastery in Singapore.
We ate nothing but Cheerios and corn on the cob and we drank fruit smoothies, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Wednesdays we had roast Cornish game hen. I slept on a coffee table in the auditorium. My four brothers slept in the den.
I had to get up every morning at seven to feed the cow and the koala. After that, I had to scrub the dungeon and bend the Egyptian mummy.
I walked thirty-five yards through ice storms and sleet storms to get to school every morning, wearing only a parka and a hat. We had to learn Greek and geography, all in the space of seven blinks of an eye.
Mom worked hard, making cardboard iPods by hand and selling them for only eight shillings each. She had to clamp every iPod nine times.
Dad worked as a guitarist and earned only eighty-seven guineas a day. We couldn't afford any batons, so we made do with only a daisy.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up vivacious and portly.