You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a plastic spa in Hawaii.
We ate nothing but lime sherbet and banana split and we drank cans of Ensure, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Mondays we had wienerschnitzel. I slept on a couch in the front porch. My nine brothers slept in the outhouse.
I had to get up every morning at five to feed the dromedary and the bear. After that, I had to scrub the bedroom and fortify the flower.
I walked thirty-three light years through driving rainstorms and drought to get to school every morning, wearing only a tunic and a G-string. We had to learn mythology and oceanography, all in the space of six centuries.
Mom worked hard, making rancid skulls by hand and selling them for only nineteen crowns each. She had to bury every skull twenty-eight times.
Dad worked as a telemarketer and earned only forty-three quarters a day. We couldn't afford any Hostess Ding Dongs, so we made do with only a football.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up pesky and excitable.