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The Ninth Episode

I have to make this fast because the family is going to make a Skype call to their uncle in the States [and have to use this very machine to do so… The worries we artists suffer..]. Well, these past few days have been unexciting, uneventful and boring, to be [bluntly] honest with you. Except for relatives fussing over poor chicken-pox-ed Taylor, the place is deserted. I try to trail along and help whenever anyone hints that I may be needed in the least, but no, except for that, everyone has made it very clear that I am of no use to them at the moment and shouldn’t poke my snout in “affairs that don’t concern me.”

Well, I like that!! Fancy them telling ME to clear off when my Taylor is ill and may very well be calling me this very instant!!! That’s the worst part about these aunts and uncles, they interfere when they’re not needed and accuse others of doing the exact same thing!! I have a very good mind to send an official complaint to my dear cousin, the respected Queen of all England, but I’m afraid she may have -shall we say- slightly more pressing matters to deal with at the moment.

I do hope Taylor knocks some sense into them. If they keep treating me like as if I’m not better than a regular mutt [which, I have to admit, an alarming number of them think I am] when I am, in reality, the thirty-seventh cousin of prime royalty!! I wonder how they’d react if they figured it out one day. Well, I’d rather hope they have  start, it serves them right!

I don’t think I’ve told you guys this before, but I’d like to let you in on my life-log ambition [since I feel I can trust you. After all, you have read through my private journal, so I figure,what really IS the worst that can happen?], something I’ve wanted to do for ages and ages, but haven’t actually brought myself to doing. You see, I want to publish a book, a novel, something people, people I don’t know, will actually flip through and comment on and write articles about. I want to fly off to L.A and New York for interviews and signings and movie premiers, I want to be FAMOUS and rub elbows with the stars, get V.I.P passes to backstage concerts and millions of dollars with contracts from all sorts of people.

I want to do what everyone wants to do, be EXTREMELY successful with lines of hotels named after me and fleets of gigantic ships that I will inaugurate. I want my name to and my whereabouts to be splashed on the papers all over the globe; “FENI SPOTTED IN LAS VEGAS!!!” says one while “A GLIMPSE OF FENI IN VENICE!!!” declares another. Oh, it will be the life, stalkers, paparazzi and the sort of things that the famous hate but I will bring myself to adore.

Looks like I got a little carried away. I can hear footsteps in the aisle, probably the family who are waiting to interact with their Uncle. I’d better be off. Tata!!

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