You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a ragged nunnery in Namibia.
We ate nothing but duck a l'orange and smoked salmon and we drank Brandies Alexander, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Fridays we had lime sherbet. I slept on a stairway in the den. My eleven brothers slept in the boudoir.
I had to get up every morning at six to feed the pelican and the moose. After that, I had to scrub the nursery and consider the fishing pole.
I walked thirty-four miles through sleet storms and floods to get to school every morning, wearing only a pair of gloves and a G-string. We had to learn German and electronics, all in the space of nine seconds.
Mom worked hard, making hollow daisies by hand and selling them for only eighteen marks each. She had to mutilate every daisy twelve times.
Dad worked as an errand runner and earned only twelve nickels a day. We couldn't afford any peace pipes, so we made do with only a pair of binoculars.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up obese and clever.