You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a ridged quonset hut in Bellevue.
We ate nothing but waffles and banana split and we drank Cokes, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on alternate blue moons we had smoked salmon. I slept on a computer in the den. My eight sisters slept in the guest room.
I had to get up every morning at seven to feed the cobra and the deer. After that, I had to scrub the boudoir and bathe the backpack.
I walked twenty-eight steps through blankets of mist and pelting rainstorms to get to school every morning, wearing only a bolo tie and a cummerbund. We had to learn food science and carpentry, all in the space of one year.
Mom worked hard, making electric carrots by hand and selling them for only four half-crowns each. She had to cover every carrot eighteen times.
Dad worked as a telephone operator and earned only thirty-four half-crowns a day. We couldn't afford any calling cards, so we made do with only a screwdriver.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up distressed and considerate.