You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in an art deco A-frame in Tallahassee.
We ate nothing but cabbage and burritos and we drank kamikazes, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Mondays we had dry toast. I slept on a counter in the dining room. My two brothers slept in the front porch.
I had to get up every morning at three to feed the hermit crab and the lion. After that, I had to scrub the front porch and hammer the dead garter snake.
I walked three hops through rainbows and dense fogs to get to school every morning, wearing only a belly button jewel and a swimsuit. We had to learn environmental science and biology, all in the space of three minutes.
Mom worked hard, making ragged shovels by hand and selling them for only sixteen crowns each. She had to stack every shovel eleven times.
Dad worked as a mail carrier and earned only ninety-three million dollars a day. We couldn't afford any statues, so we made do with only a peanut.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up agitated and awkward.