Tomas Read Online Free Page A

deals in underdeveloped countries that pipe sewage into the sea or rivers to get hold of their shit and we buy as much of it as possible. Finally we at the bank save all our own shit just for you. So here’s the deal. After twelve months or so you’ve got this massive pile of shit, probably the biggest pile of shit ever in the history of the world. And our fee will be fifty per cent of all the money we spend to buy the shit, so that’s a great deal for you. What do you think?’
    The aide knows he must do something to halt this madness and the destruction of his boss’s fortune. Summoning all his strength he gives the stomach a gigantic heave; it wobbles and falls off the chair.
    A cheer goes up from the bankers.
    â€˜That’s great news, Boss,’ says the chief banker. ‘We never thought we’d knock you off your chair. Let’s get the money transferred straight away. Have a great day!’
    That night, uninformed of events, Boss Olgarv goes to bed. He detaches his stomach and pats it goodnight on its sleeping cot. It’s not been a good day but – hey – was it so bad? A few embarrassing photos and a dip in the sea?
    In his dreams he’s back in the ocean, swimming to the seaward side of his yacht. The sky darkens and the seaturns to shit and blood, infested by the innards of dead animals. On the horizon his aide paddles furiously, deaf to his plaintive cries.
    Producers, a party and a peanut
…
    Tomas is cheered by the fat Russian’s watery baptism and feels like a party. This is easy: the film festival is on and the city is infested with international glitterati who have the same idea.
    Getting invited to a party requires mastering three magic words: ‘I’m a producer.’ Tomas practises in front of the mirror.
    â€˜I’m a peanut,’ he says to himself out loud.
    â€˜No, that’s not quite right,’ the invisible voice tells him. ‘Try again.’
    â€˜You’re a peanut,’ he affirms with confidence.
    â€˜Come on, Tomas. That’s even worse. Let’s get back on track.’
    â€˜I could be a producer,’ he tries.
    â€˜Present tense, Tomas, present tense, not future conditional.’
    â€˜I’m a producer.’
    Bingo! In no time at all, Tomas has learnt the magic art. He rushes from his room to try it on a stranger in the hotel bar.
    â€˜I’m a producer,’ he says flawlessly.
    â€˜Great,’ replies the stranger. ‘There’s a party tonight. Here’s the address. See you there.’
    Tomas arrives at the party vibrating with joy at hisnew profession. He performs the three-word magic trick on the first few people he meets and only one is addressed as a peanut. This is an impressive result. Word spreads quickly. Tomas is a producer.
    In this new capacity, Tomas finds a number of people – for some reason all girls – who wish to be produced. He joins a table of three potentials who, in thoughtful anticipation of a sudden audition, which might involve a costume change, wear an absolute minimum of clothing. There are also three boys at the table. They’re producers too. Two are muscular-looking, tanned with white teeth, and appear to be producers of epic romance films; the third is scrawny, with a long face and scruffy clothing – perhaps he produces scarecrow movies?
    The dynamic, therefore, is that all three girls wish to be produced – but by only two of the boys. And since a producer is only capable of practising his magic art on one producee at any one time, there’s a problem. The girl who fails to win the favour of the two epic-romance producers will end up in a scarecrow movie.
    The conversation ranges over the producers’ production credits – none – and the producees’ acting experience – also none. But the evening is pregnant with promise. The girls lock legs, arms, eyes and expressions with the epic-romance boys.
    â€˜Oh