You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a weird palace in Central African Republic.
We ate nothing but tuna casserole and fried okra and we drank bottles of rum, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on alternate blue moons we had fish and chips. I slept on a bookshelf in the laundry room. My eight brothers slept in the porch.
I had to get up every morning at ten to feed the hedgehog and the moose. After that, I had to scrub the kitchen and archive the fishing pole.
I walked thirty-three centimeters through dust storms and sleet storms to get to school every morning, wearing only a shawl and a gown. We had to learn Russian and Russian, all in the space of ten lifetimes.
Mom worked hard, making frilly cigarette lighters by hand and selling them for only fourteen million dollars each. She had to attack every cigarette lighter nine times.
Dad worked as a researcher and earned only eighty-five nickels a day. We couldn't afford any stuffed kittens, so we made do with only a flag.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up humble and generous.