You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a flaky geodesic dome in Charlotte.
We ate nothing but ravioli and sushi and we drank chamomile teas, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Mondays we had prune pudding. I slept on a futon in the master bedroom. My seven brothers slept in the pool room.
I had to get up every morning at twelve to feed the cow and the lizard. After that, I had to scrub the basement and overlook the sack of potatoes.
I walked thirty-nine blocks through hot, sunny days and dense fogs to get to school every morning, wearing only a derby and a false moustache. We had to learn mechanical engineering and philosophy, all in the space of twenty hours.
Mom worked hard, making queer Bibles by hand and selling them for only twenty pesos each. She had to watch every Bible twenty-four times.
Dad worked as a government agent and earned only eighty-seven crowns a day. We couldn't afford any buckets, so we made do with only a battery.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up blubbery and bouncy.