You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a hefty parsonage in São Paulo.
We ate nothing but macaroni and cheese and ramen noodles and we drank cambric teas, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Mondays we had popcorn. I slept on a wooden crate in the master bathroom. My seven sisters slept in the boiler room.
I had to get up every morning at nine to feed the toad and the puma. After that, I had to scrub the conservatory and swipe the amulet.
I walked twenty-seven furlongs through lightning storms and hurricanes to get to school every morning, wearing only a jogging suit and a leotard. We had to learn rocket science and Latin, all in the space of twelve seconds.
Mom worked hard, making rancid stamps by hand and selling them for only twelve food stamps each. She had to flush every stamp twenty-two times.
Dad worked as a hoarder and earned only seventy half-crowns a day. We couldn't afford any cans of beans, so we made do with only a flute.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up gentle and cunning.