You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a stiff manor in London.
We ate nothing but lime sherbet and pecan pie and we drank Shirley Temples, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Wednesdays we had cabbage. I slept on a sofa in the bedroom. My five sisters slept in the servant's quarters.
I had to get up every morning at five to feed the pony and the leopard. After that, I had to scrub the living room and reconsider the baby doll.
I walked twenty-two blocks through typhoons and earthquakes to get to school every morning, wearing only a girdle and a suit. We had to learn economics and health, all in the space of eighteen decades.
Mom worked hard, making greasy flowers by hand and selling them for only eight bitcoin each. She had to sharpen every flower five times.
Dad worked as a mattress tester and earned only thirty-one million dollars a day. We couldn't afford any cans of soup, so we made do with only a bird cage.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up radiant and dependable.