You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a crude homeless shelter in Denmark.
We ate nothing but tofu and chicken gumbo and we drank milkshakes, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on alternate blue moons we had strawberry shortcake. I slept on an ottoman in the nursery. My ten sisters slept in the guest room.
I had to get up every morning at five to feed the beaver and the gazelle. After that, I had to scrub the front porch and guard the magnifying glass.
I walked seventeen meters through dense fogs and rainbows to get to school every morning, wearing only an award medal and a coat of mail. We had to learn statistics and chemistry, all in the space of sixteen months.
Mom worked hard, making smelly houseplants by hand and selling them for only eight guineas each. She had to experience every houseplant twenty-eight times.
Dad worked as a stamp collector and earned only sixty doubloons a day. We couldn't afford any bedpans, so we made do with only an artificial flower.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up drowsy and sinister.