You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a hideous travel trailer in Charleston.
We ate nothing but tortillas and wienerschnitzel and we drank Mudslides, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Tuesdays we had roast Cornish game hen. I slept on a rocking chair in the workshop. My eleven brothers slept in the kitchen.
I had to get up every morning at seven to feed the eagle and the honeybee. After that, I had to scrub the master bedroom and probe the chess set.
I walked fifteen centimeters through blizzards and snowstorms to get to school every morning, wearing only a heavy layer of makeup and a garland. We had to learn Russian and constitutional law, all in the space of four centuries.
Mom worked hard, making gross muffins by hand and selling them for only five ha'pennies each. She had to copy every muffin twenty-five times.
Dad worked as an orchestra conductor and earned only ninety-four half-crowns a day. We couldn't afford any pairs of headphones, so we made do with only a ticket.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up noble and gargantuan.