Sisteria Read Online Free PDF Page A

went downstairs to watch Supermarket Sweep, and was now suing Armitage Shanks for negligence, was, according to Plum, having doubts about whether she wanted to appear after all. The second was that Naomi’s colon was still filling with water. Summer had been so distraught when she left the room that she had forgotten to turn off the tap on the knitting machine. The result was that as more and more surged dam-like into her gut, Naomi had begun to experience the kind of abdominal griping pains that were usually associated with aid workers in Africa suffering from amoebic dysentery.
    Whatever physical pain Naomi was in, it didn’t begin to compare with the anger she was feeling towards the Armitage Shanks woman. So furious was she that her brain failed to register that her gut pain was being caused by her colon filling with water. As it continued to dilate and distend, Naomi simply gurned and groaned and took out her agony on Plum.
    â€˜What the fuck do you mean, she’s refusing to appear if she has to weep on screen? What fucking use is that? How many times do I have to tell you, Plum, it’s tears which make ratings. Listen to me - I don’t want her unless you draw up a contract and she gives us a written undertaking to cry. Tell her we’ll stick raw onion down her cleavage if it’ll help. Offer her tickets for Les Mis . Tell her we’ll arrange a night out for her with Michael Winner. Anything. Just get her, Plum.’
    Naomi pressed the off button and dropped the phone on to the couch. She then let out a cry which sounded like a cross between two coyotes on the job and the death throes of a parrot. Suddenly realising that her gut was on the point of exploding, she tried to yank out the tube which had been inserted into her backside. For some reason, probably because of the searing pain coming from her bowel, her muscles were holding on to it for dear life and the thing wouldn’t budge. Naomi screamed for Summer.
    In a second, Summer’s head appeared round the door. It was almost as if she had been waiting for Naomi’s frantic call, and that she hadn’t forgotten to turn off the tap but had left it running on purpose.
    â€˜Turn off the fucking tap. Turn off the tap. I’m swelling up like the sodding Michelin man here.’
    Summer smiled in a way which indicated that she had in the last few minutes, mastered the art of wickedness.
    She moved forward and put her fingers on the water tap, but made no attempt to turn it.
    â€˜Only if you apologise for being so rude,’ she grinned.
    Naomi, who saw apologising as losing face, said nothing. Despite her excruciating agony, she couldn’t bring herself to say she was sorry.
    â€˜Just turn it off,’ she shrieked.
    â€˜Apologise.’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Come on, Naomi. In a few seconds, the contents of your insides are gonna hit the ceiling like some good ol’ Dallas gusher.’
    Naomi could tolerate the agony no longer.
    â€˜All right, all right. You win. I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry for being so rude.’
    With that, Summer, who was still smiling, turned off the tap. A few moments later, Naomi experienced a bowel evacuation so sublime that as bodily sensations went, there was little to choose between it and the most magnificent of orgasms.
    ***
    Naomi got to the Channel 6 office in Hammersmith just before eleven. As she stepped out of the lift, she patted her stomach and smiled. Delivered of its stagnant buildup, it was flatter than it had been for weeks. Then, almost immediately, as she set off down the long corridor towards her office, temptation struck in the form of the glorious greasy-spoon smell which was wafting down from the canteen upstairs. She realized she could murder a Bacon Bastard. This was a canteen special which consisted of three or four rashers of cheap streaky shoved between thickly buttered Sunblest.
    Although she was starving and her mouth was now full of saliva,