You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a filthy Cape Cod in Bellevue.
We ate nothing but hash and prime rib and we drank shots of whiskey, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on Saturdays we had scrambled eggs. I slept on a computer in the game room. My five brothers slept in the boiler room.
I had to get up every morning at five to feed the yak and the pheasant. After that, I had to scrub the workshop and shove the pack of gum.
I walked twenty-four blocks through thunderstorms and gales to get to school every morning, wearing only a suit of armor and a raincoat. We had to learn deportment and plumbing, all in the space of thirteen seconds.
Mom worked hard, making handy Egyptian mummies by hand and selling them for only eight marks each. She had to stab every Egyptian mummy twenty-three times.
Dad worked as a bounty hunter and earned only nineteen guineas a day. We couldn't afford any napkins, so we made do with only a bowl.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up colorless and perky.