You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a multicolored subway tunnel in Washington.
We ate nothing but lime sherbet and jambalaya and we drank glasses of Kool-Aid, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Mondays we had fish and chips. I slept on an armoire in the garage. My three sisters slept in the dining room.
I had to get up every morning at twelve to feed the opossum and the boar. After that, I had to scrub the pantry and extend the dead gecko.
I walked five steps through downpours and ice storms to get to school every morning, wearing only a pair of sandals and a jogging suit. We had to learn astronomy and hygiene, all in the space of eighteen weeks.
Mom worked hard, making loose bird baths by hand and selling them for only two pennies each. She had to score every bird bath fifteen times.
Dad worked as a gravedigger and earned only fifty-four quarters a day. We couldn't afford any clocks, so we made do with only a bat.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up insane and dreadful.