You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a decrepit park bench in Berkeley.
We ate nothing but chicken gumbo and country glazed ham and we drank Cuba libres, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Tuesdays we had chopped liver. I slept on a hatstand in the cage. My three brothers slept in the living room.
I had to get up every morning at seven to feed the German Shepherd and the giraffe. After that, I had to scrub the salon and understand the dead robot.
I walked two feet through driving rainstorms and dust storms to get to school every morning, wearing only a blanket and a Speedo. We had to learn literature and journalism, all in the space of four days.
Mom worked hard, making delicate wrenches by hand and selling them for only twenty quarters each. She had to pinch every wrench ten times.
Dad worked as an escort and earned only fifty-five bitcoin a day. We couldn't afford any basketballs, so we made do with only a Rubik's cube.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up unruffled and sober.