You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a new church in Tallahassee.
We ate nothing but moo goo gai pan and sushi and we drank cups of bouillon, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Fridays we had cotton candy. I slept on a couch in the lounge. My nine brothers slept in the salon.
I had to get up every morning at seven to feed the crocodile and the hog. After that, I had to scrub the laundry room and play with the banana.
I walked seventeen miles through tornadoes and ice storms to get to school every morning, wearing only a pair of ear muffs and a bridal gown. We had to learn neurobiology and music theory, all in the space of thirteen months.
Mom worked hard, making musty notebooks by hand and selling them for only seven cents each. She had to praise every notebook five times.
Dad worked as a park ranger and earned only sixty-four Euros a day. We couldn't afford any clams, so we made do with only an antenna.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up enraged and mindless.