You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a slimy condominium in South Africa.
We ate nothing but lamb curry and hors d'oeuvre and we drank mint juleps, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on alternate blue moons we had ceviche. I slept on a casket in the library. My two sisters slept in the outhouse.
I had to get up every morning at three to feed the mouse and the cougar. After that, I had to scrub the conservatory and refine the teddy bear.
I walked twenty-four meters through thunderstorms and rainstorms to get to school every morning, wearing only a pair of panties and a pair of overalls. We had to learn law enforcement and manners, all in the space of three decades.
Mom worked hard, making striking baseball bats by hand and selling them for only twenty dollars each. She had to grease every baseball bat eleven times.
Dad worked as an ice cream vendor and earned only ninety food stamps a day. We couldn't afford any Frisbees, so we made do with only a brochure.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up mournful and lanky.