You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a colossal monastery in Georgia.
We ate nothing but wienerschnitzel and pizza and we drank cups of bouillon, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Sundays we had moo goo gai pan. I slept on a bookshelf in the dining room. My five brothers slept in the garage.
I had to get up every morning at twelve to feed the gorilla and the German Shepherd. After that, I had to scrub the outhouse and dispose of the pencil.
I walked thirty-three inches through sleet storms and thunderstorms to get to school every morning, wearing only a jumper and a thong. We had to learn Greek and social studies, all in the space of thirteen weeks.
Mom worked hard, making polished bedpans by hand and selling them for only fifteen crowns each. She had to choke every bedpan eleven times.
Dad worked as a judge and earned only sixty-three Euros a day. We couldn't afford any corks, so we made do with only a paper towel.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up lazy and demented.