Competitive Hardship #8 - Ha! You Pansies!Mature

You people are such pansies. One meal a year? Heh, we got that if we were lucky - we had to eat bits of mouldering animal dung out of the park bins, and if we were lucky we'd be able to catch a few putrid drops out of the back of the sewage factory on the edge of town. And at least you all had somewhere to sleep, to hide, or even clothes on your backs! All we had was one threadbare leg warmer between all sixteen-point-five of us! And the point-five was always stealing it. Evil git.

We didn't even have anywhere to sleep at night. No cosy drainpipe or warm cardboard boxes for us, oh no! We slept in the gutters on top of derelict houses, and curled up in the gas pipes of cars, or down the sides of the seats with all the smelly cigarettes and bits of flaky skin. And we couldn't even stay there for more than a night, because we were all infected with a horrible disease that made our skin turn green, shrivel up and drop off if we didn't move every two-point-three-five seconds. I lost both my legs to that, and my head once! I was being careless - I shouldn't have allowed myself to stay in that lovely puddle of cat pee at the bottom of the litterbox, I knew I shouldn't, but it was the only comfort I had on that minus-one-thousand-and-sixty-three degrees farenheit morning. I had to chase it halfway across Europe before I could catch it! Stupid cat wouldn't put it down until I bit its tail off. Tail was lovely by the way - I served it up with a bit of possum-au-minivan and washed it down with tepid water from the dishwasher.

And school? Ha! WE never even knew what a school was! We couldn't read, or write, or even count our fingers  - the three we had between us, anyway. We didn't even learn enough to be able to speak, so we were reduced to a gruesome game of charades were we would spend most of our time rolling around in pain because someone misinterpreted our signs as "stick a sharp knife in my bottom and coat me in goose grease" rather than "please pass me that last scrap of mouldering newspaper, I think it would make a lovely hat".

You people think this younger generation has it soft. Bah, I laugh at your ignorance. Or, at least, I would if I knew how to.

The End

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