You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a bulky trailer in Rome.
We ate nothing but dirty rice and crab rangoon and we drank Alka-Seltzers, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Saturdays we had catfish stew. I slept on a hatstand in the patio. My seven brothers slept in the servant's quarters.
I had to get up every morning at four to feed the turtle and the rooster. After that, I had to scrub the guest room and kick the stamp.
I walked thirty-two blocks through dust storms and bits of precipitation to get to school every morning, wearing only a jumpsuit and a belt buckle. We had to learn entomology and traditional medicine, all in the space of fifteen centuries.
Mom worked hard, making hollow washrags by hand and selling them for only nine farthings each. She had to fold every washrag twenty-nine times.
Dad worked as a zookeeper and earned only forty-seven pennies a day. We couldn't afford any antennas, so we made do with only a cowbell.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up big and bubbly.