8 My Autobiography of My Life by Me

CHAPTER 8 MY AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF MY LIFE BY ME (AND NOT TERRY) I stomp down the stairs, out the front door and fling my cowpat hat into the forest. The movie is not my problem any more. And neither is Terry. We are done.

Who needs him anyway? Not me. I can draw my own pictures. And now I can finally get started on the autobiography I've always wanted to write. I feel a hand on my shoulder and look up. It's Jill.

'I came to see if you were okay,' she says. 'Yeah, I'm fine,' I say. 'I'm quite busy, actually. I'm writing my autobiography.' 'That's great, Andy,' says Jill, 'but won't Terry be too busy to illustrate it?' 'Yeah, probably,' I say. 'But it doesn't matter because I can do it myself. Look.' I hand Jill the pages.

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