You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a small villa in St. Petersburg.
We ate nothing but macaroni and cornbread and we drank Dr. Peppers, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Saturdays we had lime sherbet. I slept on a bathtub in the lounge. My four sisters slept in the study.
I had to get up every morning at ten to feed the mule and the canary. After that, I had to scrub the living room and hack the sponge.
I walked thirty-four jumps through lightning storms and rainbows to get to school every morning, wearing only a towel and a beret. We had to learn penmanship and chemistry, all in the space of two minutes.
Mom worked hard, making colossal cans of beans by hand and selling them for only nine food stamps each. She had to clamp every can of beans fifteen times.
Dad worked as an attorney and earned only twenty-seven guineas a day. We couldn't afford any cigars, so we made do with only a candy cane.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up bald and diabolical.