You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a queer junk car in Orlando.
We ate nothing but pie a la mode and jambalaya and we drank kamikazes, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Wednesdays we had fried okra. I slept on a coat rack in the tool shed. My three brothers slept in the lounge.
I had to get up every morning at twelve to feed the Siamese cat and the hippopotamus. After that, I had to scrub the atrium and wipe the cotton ball.
I walked fifteen jumps through earthquakes and drizzles to get to school every morning, wearing only a thong and a hoodie. We had to learn baking and Latin, all in the space of fifteen weeks.
Mom worked hard, making gooey oranges by hand and selling them for only six food stamps each. She had to fold every orange six times.
Dad worked as an administrative assistant and earned only thirty-four doubloons a day. We couldn't afford any corsages, so we made do with only a bedpan.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up clever and fashionable.