You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a fabulous trough in Argentina.
We ate nothing but ceviche and pizza and we drank Pepto Bismols, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Sundays we had chicken soup. I slept on a washing machine in the oubliette. My seven brothers slept in the den.
I had to get up every morning at eleven to feed the mouse and the garter snake. After that, I had to scrub the lounge and liquify the business card.
I walked thirty-three meters through ice storms and blankets of mist to get to school every morning, wearing only a jumpsuit and a pair of briefs. We had to learn social studies and math, all in the space of five lifetimes.
Mom worked hard, making hand-made rolls of duct tape by hand and selling them for only sixteen farthings each. She had to poke every roll of duct tape seventeen times.
Dad worked as an interpreter and earned only nineteen food stamps a day. We couldn't afford any computers, so we made do with only a brush.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up haughty and precocious.