Toad Surprise

by Morris Gleitzman

  The Christmas beetle stared at Limpy.

  ‘You?’ said the Christmas beetle. ‘Santa’s helper? Don’t even think about it.’

  ‘Why not?’ said Limpy.

  ‘Because,’ said the Christmas beetle, ‘Santa only employs top professionals, not daydreaming dill-brains.’

  Limpy ignored the unkind comment.

  ‘Everyone has to start somewhere,’ he said. ‘With a bit of experience I could be a top professional.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ said the Christmas beetle. ‘You want to start somewhere? Here’s where you can start. Put your hand on your head.’

  Limpy was puzzled, but he did it anyway.

  ‘OK,’ said the Christmas beetle. ‘Can you feel any tree branches growing out of your skull?’

  Limpy couldn’t.

  ‘Which means,’ said the Christmas beetle, ‘you’re not a reindeer, you’re a cane toad. So my advice is, forget the whole idea.’

  Limpy thought about this.

  It wasn’t really the advice he’d hoped for.

  ‘I can’t forget the whole idea,’ said Limpy. ‘There are too many lives at stake.’

  The Christmas beetle stopped rolling his eyes and muttering things about witless wart-brains, and looked at Limpy.

  ‘That’s why I need to be Santa’s helper,’ Limpy went on. ‘So humans will feel Christmas peace and goodwill towards all cane toads and stop killing us.’

  The Christmas beetle thought about this.

  Limpy wondered whether to tell the Christmas beetle about Santa being in the long grass next to the highway.

  He decided not to. There wasn’t time.

  ‘If you stop bugging me,’ said the Christmas beetle, ‘I’ll tell you what you need to know. Santa lives very far away in a place called the North Pole. The whole joint is covered in freezing white stuff called snow. Well, some of it’s actually reindeer dandruff, but it’s still extremely cold. So my advice is, if by some miracle you end up there, don’t stay long or you’ll die.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Limpy gratefully.

  He headed off towards the highway.

  That was exactly the sort of useful advice he’d been hoping for.

  ‘The North Pole?’ said Charm.

  Her eyes, glowing green in the moonlight, were wide with concern.

  Limpy, crouched next to her behind some swamp weed, tried to look like going to the North Pole wasn’t a big deal.

  He wasn’t surprised Charm was concerned. It was her loving nature. Plus little sisters often got a bit concerned about older brothers possibly freezing their warts off.

  ‘I’ll probably only go to the North Pole for tonight,’ said Limpy. ‘Then tomorrow, which is Christmas Eve, I’ll be travelling all over the world delivering presents to human children.’

  Charm looked even more concerned. She put her arms round Limpy and pressed her cheek against his tummy.

  ‘It sounds very dangerous,’ she said.

  Limpy gave his little sister a loving squeeze to let her know it was going to be completely safe.

  ‘I won’t be there long enough to freeze to death,’ he said.

  Charm didn’t look convinced.

  ‘What if you get eaten by a reindeer?’ she said.

  ‘Reindeer are vegetarian,’ said Limpy, but he wasn’t completely sure about that.

  Charm was starting to make him feel a bit nervous. He pushed his fears and the swamp weed aside and peered over at Santa’s ute. The rear wheels were spinning in the mud as Santa tried to reverse back onto the highway.

  Goliath, hunched in the long grass near the ute, was peeing on the wheels to make the ground under them even muddier.

  Good on you, Goliath, thought Limpy.

  Goliath might not be the smartest cane toad in the swamp, but he was brilliant with mud.

  Charm was frowning.

  ‘I thought you said Santa flies around the world on a sleigh,’ she said to Limpy. ‘That looks more like a Commodore ute.’

  ‘I know,’ said Limpy. ‘Maybe he prefers it for going to the shops.’

  They watched as Santa stopped revving the ute, got out, pulled some branches off a bush and stuffed them under his rear wheels.

  ‘That must be for grip,’ said Limpy. ‘He’ll probably be out of the mud soon. I’d better get on board.’

  ‘Limpy,’ said Charm. ‘I want to come too.’

  Limpy looked at her dear little warty face.

  He’d been expecting this.

  Charm was incredibly brave for someone whose body hadn’t grown properly because of pollution. Now, somehow, he had to find a way of persuading her to stay. Of making her see she was the only one who could take over lookout duty on the ant hill.

  ‘But I’m not going to come,’ said Charm.

  ‘Eh?’ said Limpy.

  ‘Somebody has to do lookout duty on the ant hill,’ said Charm. ‘With you away it’d have to be me or Goliath. And Goliath would probably just eat the ants.’

  Limpy had to agree with that.

  ‘But I don’t want you to go on your own,’ continued Charm. ‘So you have to take Goliath.’

  Limpy opened his mouth to tell Charm all the reasons why that wouldn’t be a good idea. Then he saw the expression on her face. Even her warts looked determined.

  Limpy stared across at Goliath, who was punching himself in the stomach, trying to get a few more drops of pee out.

  ‘You either have to take him or me,’ said Charm.

  Limpy sighed.

  He didn’t really have a choice.

  ‘i’ll take Goliath,’ he said.

  ‘And,’ said Charm, ‘you also have to take Uncle Vasco.’

  Limpy stared at her as she rolled something out of the swamp weed. It was poor flat Uncle Vasco, all sun-baked skin and squashed warts and vicious tyre marks. Limpy had been meaning to add Uncle Vasco to the uncle pile in his room for several days now, but hadn’t got around to it.

  ‘Please,’ said Charm. ‘You have to take him.’

  Limpy didn’t understand. Why did Charm want him to take an uncle who was flat and dead?

  Then Limpy remembered that Uncle Vasco had always wanted to travel. That’s how he’d got run over. He was on his way to the other side of the highway for a holiday, and turned round to wave goodbye just as a truck was coming.

  ‘Charm,’ said Limpy gently. ‘How about if I promise to take Uncle Vasco on a holiday another time?’

  Charm shook her head.

  ‘You’re not taking him on a holiday,’ she said. ‘You’re taking him to keep you safe. So you won’t forget what humans can do to cane toads. So if you’re in danger, you’ll be careful.’

  Limpy saw that his sister’s expression was loving and concerned, but also fierce and stubborn.

  He sighed.

  Oh well. At least having Uncle Vasco around might remind Goliath not to try wrestling any trucks at the North Pole.

  Charm put her arms round Limpy’s tummy again.

  ‘I love you, Limpy,’ she whispered. ‘Be careful.’

  ‘I love you too,’ said Limpy.

  He gave Charm one last hug, then heaved Uncle Vasco onto his shoulders and hopped towards Santa’s ute before all the sad goodbye feelings made his crook leg go wobbly.

  Riding in the back of Santa’s ute wasn’t very comfortable. The jolting and bumping were making Limpy’s whole body feel battered, specially his warts.

  Limpy wondered if warts ever just dropped off.

  To take his mind off that possibility, Limpy gazed up at the moon and the dark trees flashing past. Also flashing past in the warm night air were flying insects, pulling faces and poking their tongues out at him and Goliath.

  Goliath was trying to catch them in his mouth, but the air was rushing past too quickly.

  ‘Nah, nah,’ the flying insects were chortling. ‘Missed us.’

  ‘If we’re Santa’s helpers,’ grumbled Goliath to Limpy, ‘why are we getting sore bottoms bouncing around here in the back?
Why aren’t we riding up front with Santa, swapping reindeer jokes and snacking on Christmas beetles?’

  ‘I don’t think Santa eats Christmas beetles,’ said Limpy. ‘Plus it’s better if we stay hidden till we get to the North Pole.’

  ‘Why?’ frowned Goliath. ‘We don’t have to be scared of Santa. He’s totally into peace and goodwill. It’s not like he’s gunna beat us to death with big heavy presents or anything.’

  ‘I know,’ replied Limpy. ‘But we mustn’t rush into this. Just cause we’re volunteering doesn’t mean we’ll get the job. We have to wait till we can show Santa what good helpers we are.’

  ‘Why can’t we show him now?’ grumbled Goliath. ‘Why don’t we just go into that cab and pick the nits out of his beard and squeeze a couple of his pimples?’

  Limpy shook his head.

  ‘It’s better if we wait till we get to the North Pole,’ he said. ‘That’s where Santa needs help most. With his workshop and his sleigh.’

  ‘And his pimples,’ muttered Goliath.

  The ute swerved. Limpy found himself rolling across the hard metal floor.

  He ended up on his back in a corner. He felt bruised, but he didn’t mind at all.

  ‘Did you feel that?’ he said to Goliath. ‘Santa must have swerved so we wouldn’t hit a rellie on the road. This is so exciting. I can’t believe we’ve found a human who feels peace and goodwill to all cane toads.’

  Goliath grunted.

  Limpy tried to pick himself up, but the ute did another swerve and he started to roll again. He saw that Uncle Vasco was rolling around too, which wasn’t good. Flat sun-dried rellies could chip easily.

  ‘Goliath,’ said Limpy. ‘Can you grab Uncle Vasco, please?’

  Goliath grabbed Uncle Vasco.

  Limpy managed to snatch hold of a big coil of rope. He clung on, wishing he was as strong and heavy as Goliath, who was hardly rolling around at all.

  ‘When we get to the North Pole,’ said Goliath, ‘I’m gunna show Santa how good I am at arm wrestling.’

  ‘Goliath,’ begged Limpy. ‘Please try and remember that Santa’s helpers never attack Santa or any of his other helpers.’

  Goliath scowled.

  ‘Mongrel reindeer,’ he said. ‘If those twig-heads give us any trouble, I’m gunna build a tree house between their ears.’

  Limpy felt a stab of concern.

  Maybe bringing Goliath on a mission of peace and goodwill was as crazy as he’d feared. Maybe it could only end one way – with millions of angry humans and a sobbing Santa.

  Limpy told himself to calm down.

  He watched the way Goliath was lovingly picking grit out of Uncle Vasco’s flattened nostrils.

  Goliath’s not so bad really, thought Limpy. I’d probably feel a bit violent myself if humans had run over my parents.

  The important thing, Limpy knew, was that underneath Goliath’s grumpy warts and all the teeth marks on his tummy from fighting wombats there was a warm and loving heart.

  Goliath scowled.

  ‘When I see poor Uncle Vasco like this,’ he said, licking one of Uncle Vasco’s eyelids and sticking it back on, ‘it makes me want to put prickly pear shrubs up humans’ bottoms.’

  Well, a fairly warm and loving heart.

  ‘Try to have some peaceful Christmas thoughts,’ said Limpy. ‘And get some rest. Once we arrive at the North Pole, we’re going to be very busy.’

  While Goliath dozed with his arms round Uncle Vasco, Limpy hung onto the rope and gazed up at the distant stars and wondered if Santa delivered presents there as well.

  Human technology is amazing, he thought. Camping chairs that fold up, newspapers with colour pictures, sleighs that can fly …

  Limpy closed his eyes.

  The vibration of the ute on the highway was quite relaxing now. It sounded a bit like when Dad hummed to himself with a mouthful of swamp slugs.

  ‘Mmm,’ said Goliath’s sleepy voice. ‘I know what I want for Christmas.’

  ‘What?’ murmured Limpy.

  ‘Pizza,’ said Goliath.

  Limpy smiled.

  Once this mission was a success, and humans started feeling peace and goodwill towards cane toads, and liking cane toads, and being friendly with cane toads, humans and cane toads would share heaps of pizzas together.

  Now that, thought Limpy, is what I want for Christmas.

  Limpy stood in the back of the ute, staring around him, warts tingling with amazement.

  The North Pole didn’t look anything like he’d imagined.

  The palm trees were a surprise for a start.

  And the streetlights.

  And the parked cars.

  Limpy couldn’t see a single flake of frozen white stuff anywhere, and he could see all the way down the street to the video shop on the corner.

  The ute came to a stop at the kerb and Goliath woke up.

  ‘Are we there yet?’ he mumbled.

  ‘I think so,’ whispered Limpy. ‘Quick, hide.’

  The driver’s door was opening and Santa was getting out. Limpy grabbed Goliath and pulled him down behind a petrol can.

  ‘Why are we hiding?’ said Goliath. ‘Why aren’t we helping?’

  ‘We’re checking things out,’ said Limpy. ‘We’re looking for something to help with.’

  He wondered if the petrol in the can might be some kind of special Christmas fuel. And whether they could help Santa fill up the fuel tank of the sleigh, which was probably parked just around the corner.

  But Santa didn’t even give the back of the ute a glance.

  Limpy watched as Santa had a stretch, scratched his beard, pulled the seat of his red pants out of his bottom crack, and walked up the path towards his workshop, which actually looked more like a fibro house with a wonky TV aerial on the roof.

  ‘I hope the North Pole has got insects and worms and pizza,’ said Goliath. ‘I’m starving.’

  ‘We can eat later,’ said Limpy. ‘First we have to show Santa what good helpers we are.’

  Limpy checked that poor flat Uncle Vasco was safely hidden under the coil of rope. Then he clambered down the side of the ute to the footpath.

  Goliath followed, grumbling.

  They waited until Santa had found his key and gone into his workshop, then they crept up the path towards the front door.

  ‘Grrrrr!’

  Limpy’s insides went stiff with fright.

  Through a gap in the fence, an angry face with red eyes and huge teeth was growling at them from the garden next door.

  Limpy tried to leap back, but couldn’t move because Goliath was clinging to him.

  ‘It’s a reindeer,’ squeaked Goliath. ‘A vicious killer reindeer.’

  The reindeer started to bark.

  Limpy squinted at it through the fence. He tried to remember details about reindeer from the ad in the newspaper.

  ‘I don’t think it’s a reindeer,’ said Limpy. ‘It hasn’t got a red nose or tree branches growing out of its head. I think it’s a dog.’

  ‘I heard you call me a reindeer,’ the dog growled at Goliath. ‘You looking for a fight, wart-head?’

  ‘Any time, dog-breath,’ retorted Goliath.

  Limpy saw that Goliath was flexing his poison glands. He grabbed Goliath before Goliath could squirt the dog through the fence.

  ‘Don’t,’ pleaded Limpy. ‘We’re on a mission of peace and goodwill, remember?’

  Goliath scowled at the dog and muttered things that had even less to do with peace and goodwill than the things the Christmas beetle had muttered at Limpy.

  The dog growled even more angrily through the fence. Then it stood up.

  Limpy gulped. He’d thought it was standing up before.

  It was huge.

  Limpy pulled Goliath away from the fence.

  ‘That mongrel is history,’ muttered Goliath, glaring back at the growling monster dog. But Limpy was finding Goliath surprisingly easy to drag along the path towards Santa’s workshop.

 
The front door was shut.

  ‘Hmm,’ said Limpy. ‘We won’t be able to do much Santa-helping if we can’t find a way in.’

  ‘I could get a stick and stab the door,’ offered Goliath.

  Limpy thanked him, but reminded him that from now on they’d be showing peace and goodwill to doors as well.

  Goliath didn’t look like he agreed.

  Limpy explored the front verandah and found an open window.

  ‘Come on,’ he said to Goliath. ‘We can get in through there.’

  Goliath hesitated.

  ‘What do we do once we’re inside?’ he said.

  ‘Santa helper stuff,’ said Limpy. ‘You know, wrap presents, pack his lunchbox for the big trip, sort out his maps so he can find all the houses, that kind of thing.’

  ‘And pack his cutlery?’ said Goliath. ‘In case he wants to stab other humans?’

  Limpy didn’t reply. He was too busy hopping up onto the window ledge and peering in.

  The room was dark. For a moment Limpy thought it was empty. But when his eyes got used to the gloom he saw a shadowy figure sitting on a chair. It was Santa, his head in his hands, staring at the floor.

  Limpy’s warts prickled with concern.

  He’d never seen a human look so miserable.

  ‘What’s the problem?’ said Goliath, appearing at Limpy’s side. ‘Wishing you had that sharp stick?’

  Limpy pointed at Santa, whose shoulders were so slumped that his beard was almost touching his knees.

  ‘He probably had a rough day,’ said Goliath. ‘One of the reindeer probably pooed in his lunchbox.’

  Limpy stared at Santa.

  He had a feeling it was something even worse than that.

  What could it be?

  ‘We’ll have to wait till he cheers up,’ said Goliath. ‘No point trying to knock his warts off with our helping skills while he’s in that state.’

  Limpy agreed.

  As they hopped down onto the verandah, Limpy had a thought.

  Santa’s workshop seemed rather small, given that Santa would soon be loading up his sleigh with gifts for all the human children in the whole world.

  Could that be why Santa was so miserable? Lack of storage space?

  ‘Excuse me,’ said a terse voice.

  Limpy turned.

  A spider was lowering itself towards them from a verandah post.