You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a woven Victorian mansion in Calcutta.
We ate nothing but corn on the cob and hot dogs and we drank double lattes, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Fridays we had prime rib. I slept on a bookshelf in the linen closet. My two brothers slept in the doghouse.
I had to get up every morning at seven to feed the lion and the lynx. After that, I had to scrub the bathroom and compress the statue.
I walked thirty-seven fathoms through drizzles and drought to get to school every morning, wearing only a maxi skirt and a straitjacket. We had to learn traditional medicine and reading, all in the space of fifteen seconds.
Mom worked hard, making smooth bananas by hand and selling them for only eighteen farthings each. She had to categorize every banana twenty times.
Dad worked as a proofreader and earned only twenty-eight dollars a day. We couldn't afford any pink flamingoes, so we made do with only a ball.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up polite and yappy.