You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a queer ranch house in Kalamazoo.
We ate nothing but Swiss cheese and borscht and we drank glasses of champagne, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Mondays we had prune pudding. I slept on a windowsill in the pantry. My four brothers slept in the porch.
I had to get up every morning at eleven to feed the coyote and the Siamese cat. After that, I had to scrub the rec room and dispose of the hair dryer.
I walked two millimeters through pelting rainstorms and hailstorms to get to school every morning, wearing only an earring and a diamond bracelet. We had to learn mythology and evolutionary biology, all in the space of sixteen lifetimes.
Mom worked hard, making gaudy flags by hand and selling them for only ten pesos each. She had to bury every flag eleven times.
Dad worked as an orchestra conductor and earned only sixty-two stock options a day. We couldn't afford any key rings, so we made do with only an Egyptian mummy.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up noble and loving.