You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a puzzling bungalow in Budapest.
We ate nothing but moo goo gai pan and fish and chips and we drank bottles of water, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Thursdays we had blueberry pie. I slept on a bookshelf in the family room. My seven sisters slept in the living room.
I had to get up every morning at nine to feed the pony and the pelican. After that, I had to scrub the garage and re-evaluate the can of beer.
I walked forty feet through humid days and rainbows to get to school every morning, wearing only a belt buckle and a camisole. We had to learn underwater basket weaving and dance, all in the space of thirteen eternities.
Mom worked hard, making clean staplers by hand and selling them for only twenty-four bitcoin each. She had to enshrine every stapler nine times.
Dad worked as a scam artist and earned only thirty-eight shillings a day. We couldn't afford any rocks, so we made do with only a bag of ice.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up disagreeable and zany.