The Cannibals Read Online Free Page A

about it for now. I love you, Wally. We’ll always be friends. Remember, life is but a lesson to be learned, then we move on, like beautiful butterflies spreading our wings.
    Please write back when you the time.
    Friends Forever,
    Tiffany
    Stop the presses! I just had a brilliant idea! Now I know how Einstein felt when he did whatever he did!
    This journal isn’t going to be just for Miss Jones and my future grandkids. It’s going to be the story of my life ! So that later on, when I’m a famous actress, people can see all the difficulties I went through to get successful, and become inspired.
    Some people (like my mother) don’t know what it’s like to want to be special . You’d think she was never young. She’s always wanting me to do ordinary stuff like pick up my clothes or take the leaves. What’s the point? They’ll just fall down again! She says, “Tiff, why is it so important to be famous? Don’t you have any other plans in mind?”
    She doesn’t understand that if you’re alive but nobody knows it but your family, you might as well be invisible; it doesn’t count. Let’s face it, who do you see on TV, in the movies, on the covers of magazines? The famous people. And they’re not raking leaves; they’re not doing something boring. They’re giving interviews; they’re getting awards. Which is not to say that all the unfamous people in the world aren’t important. They are. We all have our roles to play on the great stage of life. Without the audience, there couldn’t be stars.
    I think this journal— My Journal, Journey of a Journal —I’ll have to come up with a good title—will really open some eyes.

Chapter Four
    â€œGet out of here! Will you just get out?”
    â€œIt’s the Tiffany Spratt Show! Starring Tiffany Spratt!”
    â€œGet out!”
    â€œFeaturing tonight’s special guest star: Tiffany Spratt!”
    â€œ Mommmmmmmmmmmm! ”
    Sorry for the interruption. I was just sitting here, minding my own business, when my brother barged in.
    Before I forget: Having reviewed last night’s journal entry, I have got to remember to tuck in that tummy. Especially after dinner.
    He is such an idiot.
    But I think including episodes like that will give people some idea of the hardships I went through and encourage them on their own paths to success.
    Besides, in all the celebrity autobiographies I’ve ever read, the stars talk a lot about their families, and how much their loved ones helped and encouraged them or, in certain cases, nearly drove them crazy.
    My childhood falls somewhere in between. My parents love me a lot and have given me tons of stuff, like they paid for my modeling and acrobatics lessons and sent me to cheerleader camp. And in junior high, when I played softball and soccer, they were always in the stands, cheering me on to victory. Many times I saw the mascara sliding down my mother’s cheeks and had to wonder, was it rain or tears of joy?
    They’re really good parents, and I know I shouldn’t complain but lately they seem so, I don’t know, out of touch. They met in the Peace Corps. What can I say. Every night when my father watches the news, he practically has a nervous breakdown. “What’s the world coming to? Can you believe this?” et cetera. It hurts me to see him suffer.
    No matter how successful I get, my parents will always be number one in my book. Someday I’ll buy them a brand-new house or at least get the kitchen cupboards refinished. They’re covered with all these gummy fingerprints.
    Have I mentioned that my brother was born?
    I’m kind of having trouble concentrating tonight because, while I’m recording this, I’m watching the Home Shopping Network and they’re showing this incredibly fabulous purse that has so many compartments, the compartments have compartments, and if I don’t order now,