Suddenly someone sensed sinister signs. Someone secretly spying, skulking somewhere scarcely seen. "So!" Samantha (Sarah's skinny sister) screamed. "She still sips syrup. She said she'd stopped. Senile sibling! Succubus! Sneaky so-and-so!"
Since secondary school, Samantha - syrup-starved - sacrificed sexual sensations, suppressing sensual stimuli. Synchronised swimming seemed silly so she started serious study, specially Science. Semi-psychotic, she subsequently surrendered sugar, scorned syrup, sidled stealthily somewhere subterranean, seeking scholastic shade, self-denial, solitude.
Suddenly seventy summers' spinsterhood signalled strangely shocking sensations: sugar seemed supremely seductive. Seeing Sarah sipping - sipping syrup - started seismic shock sensations. Seizing six sugar substitutes (saccharin) Samantha swiftly swallowed. "Soon, soon, soon, " she spitefully smiled, "Samantha, super-intelligent schemer, shall sabotage Sarah's scurrilous syrup supply. Sisters should share. She'll soon see!"
Sunset sank slowly. Sinister snowy-owls screeched. Sarah slept serenely, scarcely suspecting stalkers.
Samantha seldom skipped (septuagenarians seldom suppose skipping sensible). Still - some subconscious surge stimulated six skilful skips, surprisingly skittish. "Syrup!" Samantha sang (skipping song). "Sugary, slithery, sticky, salacious syrup! Slide sweetly Samantha-wards, syrup supreme!" Silently - sagaciously - she scheduled substitution scenario six six six.
Somewhere subterranean, something sinisterly salycilic simmered. Samantha summoned Satanic strength. She sprinkled strychnine, streptococci, sulphates. "Saves stock-cubes," she sniggered, slightly scared.
"Sorceress!" smirked some supernumerary spiders, suspending serious spinning. "Shhhh," snarled sadistic Samantha. "Silly sods." She squashed some spiders, severely savaging several, salvaging six. "Stuff superstition," she scoffed, seizing scissors. Slowly she severed small, struggling scraps. Selected spiders supply superb seasoning." She sniffed, spooning spider-goo. "Smells sweet - spicy - subtly sensational," she said. Slightly shakily, she seized sachet 'saly-c'. Sans solitary scruple, she smiled. Such sadism! Such seriously sick sisterhood! "Slip sachet," she softly slurred, snakily sssssss-ing. "Stir sinister syrup. Sepsis summons. Samantha's second sight shows - see? - sadly surprising suicide. Sayonara, Sarah!"
Snatching Sarah's silver Schaeffer, she started scribbling, simulating Sarah's scrambled spelling; "Seventeen stone sucks," she scrawled, "Suiside's slimmer. Sertainly safer. Sorry." Script securely secreted, she sneakily sallied somewhere. some sleepy 'safe' scene..
Serenely, stupidly, stout Sarah slumbered. Suddenly she sneezed. "Shan't settle, shan't settle," she sleepily slavered. "Syrup!" she summoned. "Syrupy syrup - six spoonfuls' serving." She stirred, seized Samantha's syrup substitute, sensed sweetness, sucked, snuggled. Stertorous snores signified sleep.
Samantha silently shuddered. Should Sarah suspect - should such successful scheming shatter - she (Sam) seemed scuppered. Sarah'd surely sense something, suspect something? She'd swallow, spit, survive. Suspense sizzled. Samantha shivered, shilly-shallying. Should she scarper - swiftly - so soon? Surely some sound should signify something, Sarah (slob-like, slothful Sarah) should start -
Suddenly Sarah shot skywards, screaming. "Scalding scunneration!" she swore, spewing spider spume. She screamed sixteen striated screams, shrieked seventeen sonorous shrieks, struggling soulfully, sometimes standing, sometimes staggering. Slowly, slowly she sank, screams strangling screams, shrieks stifling still shriller shrieks, spasms spasmodically suffocating sense. Such sickening sequences seemed strange, semi-surreal. Still, struggles soon stopped. Sarah surrendered, sempiternally sepulchred.
Subterfuge successful, Samantha sat still, shamelessly surveying Sarah's superabundant syrup supply. She salivated slightly. "Scrumptious", she sighed. Sedulously, she selected seven surprisingly similar skinfuls. "Sweetness seems somehow spiritual," she summarised, supremely self-satisfied. She sipped (some stories say she slurped) straight syrup, sensing stupendous superiority. "Syrup shares sky-rocket suddenly," she surmised. "Sisterhood sell-out seems somehow scandalous, smart, sales-oriented. Sweet."