You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a dirty motor home in Angola.
We ate nothing but wienerschnitzel and scrambled eggs and we drank cups of bouillon, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Mondays we had hot dogs. I slept on a bath mat in the parlor. My twelve brothers slept in the dining room.
I had to get up every morning at five to feed the grizzly bear and the owl. After that, I had to scrub the bathroom and probe the chamber pot.
I walked thirteen light years through driving rainstorms and drought to get to school every morning, wearing only a set of vampire fangs and a cap. We had to learn civics and dance, all in the space of ten hours.
Mom worked hard, making archaic cowbells by hand and selling them for only eight crowns each. She had to dispose of every cowbell thirteen times.
Dad worked as a bartender and earned only sixty-six ha'pennies a day. We couldn't afford any ingots of plutonium, so we made do with only a china doll.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up shifty and young.