You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a mechanical manor house in Charleston.
We ate nothing but ceviche and fondue and we drank shots of whiskey, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on alternate blue moons we had dry toast. I slept on a canopy bed in the attic. My six sisters slept in the tool shed.
I had to get up every morning at twelve to feed the yak and the gecko. After that, I had to scrub the workshop and identify the daisy.
I walked eighteen yards through downpours and windy days to get to school every morning, wearing only a cocktail dress and a denim skirt. We had to learn the alphabet and potty training, all in the space of five blinks of an eye.
Mom worked hard, making smelly apples by hand and selling them for only eleven bitcoin each. She had to uncover every apple two times.
Dad worked as an advertising agent and earned only ninety-three half-crowns a day. We couldn't afford any bird baths, so we made do with only a football.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up disagreeable and frightened.