‘Yum,’ exclaimed hundreds of voices.
Limpy looked around for something to knock the pesky ants off with. The big green stick that Goliath had jammed into the bike wheel was lying nearby, but it had frothy dribble and gobbling ants on it too.
Limpy grabbed another leaf and turned back to Goliath, who was still just sitting there, staring at the ants on his chest.
This isn’t good, thought Limpy. Goliath looks like he’s suffering from concussion. And possibly a great big bruise on the brain as well.
He started scraping the ants off Goliath.
‘Don’t,’ said Goliath, pushing the leaf away. ‘Leave them.’
Limpy frowned. This wasn’t like Goliath at all.
Goliath gently picked up one of the ants from his chest and held it close to his face, peering at it.
‘Please,’ squeaked the ant. ‘Let me have some more. It’s the most delicious dessert I’ve ever tasted. Better than bacteria jelly, better than termite tart, better than anything in the world. Please let me have some more Toad Delight.’
Goliath gently put the ant back onto the frothy dribble.
Amazing, thought Limpy.
He’d never heard of this before. Somebody being made more kind and less greedy by hurtling through the air and landing on their head. Plus, almost as amazingly, Goliath being spun around very fast seemed to have had a delicious effect on his dribble.
Limpy scooped up a bit of frothy dribble from the stick, shook the ants off and cautiously tasted it.
Mmmm, it was delicious. Sweet and tangy and full of yummy flavours.
‘Any more ants on the way?’ said Goliath.
Limpy looked around at the ant holes. No more ants were hurrying out for Toad Delight.
‘Can’t see any,’ he said.
‘Good,’ said Goliath. ‘Time for tea.’
With both hands, Goliath scooped all the ants off his chest, stuffed them into his mouth and chewed happily.
‘Only fair,’ he said to Limpy, his cheeks bulging. ‘They’ve had their snack, now I’m having mine.’
Limpy sighed. So much for a blow to the head making someone less greedy. Oh well, at least Goliath was back to his old cheerful self.
Except, Limpy discovered, Goliath didn’t stay that way for long. His face crumpled into sadness even while he was still chewing.
‘Ancient Abigail was wrong,’ wailed Goliath. ‘I’ve been helping you for ages and I haven’t forgotten a single woe. I want Penny.’
Limpy’s warts twinged with sympathy. He’d never been in love himself, but if it was anything like the times he’d been away from Mum and Dad and Charm, he could guess how much poor Goliath was suffering.
‘Try not to think about her,’ he said to Goliath. ‘Try and enjoy your ants.’
‘I can’t help it,’ said Goliath. ‘If an ant feast doesn’t stop me thinking about Penny, nothing will.’
He stood up, a bit unsteadily.
‘I’ve got to go and find her,’ he said.
Limpy stood up too, alarmed. The whack on Goliath’s brain must have made him momentarily forget that Penny’s owners had driven off with her ages ago and she could be anywhere in Australia.
In the distance a vehicle was approaching along the highway.
Two vehicles, in fact.
Goliath grabbed the big green stick he’d used before, sucked the last ants off it and hopped wonkily over to the edge of the highway.
He waved the stick at the oncoming vehicles.
Limpy went over to drag him back.
Poor Goliath. He was so brain-scrambled he’d already forgotten about looking for Penny and had gone back to traffic-threatening.
‘Over here, big bums,’ Goliath yelled at the vehicles. ‘Cane toad over here needs a lift to the city.’
Now Limpy understood.
He also understood how unlikely it was that humans would give a cane toad a lift. A whack with a cricket bat, more likely.
He grabbed Goliath, trying to get him away before the humans saw him.
‘Don’t,’ Goliath yelled at Limpy. ‘Don’t try and stop me. I’m having feelings I’ve never had before. I know everyone thinks I’m just a big dopey lump. Well, something’s changed. I’ve changed. Love has changed me.’
Limpy let go of Goliath.
He could see on his cousin’s face that Goliath meant every croak. And he knew it was coming from Goliath’s true heart, not from his greedy tummy or his bruised brain.
The vehicles, both four-wheel drives, were very close now. And slowing down. And stopping.
The humans inside were staring at Goliath.
Limpy hesitated, then ducked into the long grass.
Sometimes, he thought sadly, a toad has to do what a toad has to do. And cop whatever happens.
How many times had he said that to Mum and Dad and Charm? About himself.
Limpy watched anxiously as Goliath threw the stick away and jumped onto the back bumper of a four-wheel drive and clung onto the tow bar.
‘Thanks,’ yelled Goliath. ‘Anywhere in the city’s fine.’
Limpy waited for a human to get out of the vehicle, pick up the green stick and remove Goliath from the tow bar with it, painfully.
It didn’t happen.
Amazingly, the four-wheel drives moved off again.
But not along the highway towards the city.
Limpy watched with growing horror as both the vehicles turned onto a small dirt track and drove slowly along it, away from the highway.
Towards the swamp.
Limpy hurried along the dirt track, following the tyre tracks of the four-wheel drives.
As he hopped, he listened anxiously for the sound of cricket bats and tree branches.
The thud of them whacking into Goliath.
Even worse, the sound of them flattening Mum and Dad and Charm as well.
So far, thank swamp, nothing.
All Limpy could hear were his own skin pores gasping for air and, from high above, the voices of a few helpful galahs telling him that the four-wheel drives were parked a little way ahead and were white and had four wheels.
Limpy waved them a thank you.
The track went down into a dip. As Limpy hopped up the other side, he heard sounds nearby.
Not cane toads being hurt. Cane toads having a good time. Laughing and chatting and sometimes even cheering.
Limpy was surprised, but very relieved.
He peeped over the edge of the dip and was even more surprised.
The four-wheel drives were parked at the edge of a clearing in the swamp. Several humans were in the clearing, holding pieces of equipment. All around were cane toads, watching the humans.
Which was OK because the humans weren’t doing a single angry or violent thing. Most of them had their backs to the cane toads and were gathered around a picnic table in the middle of the clearing.
Limpy saw what the humans were looking at.
A familiar figure, a large and muscly one, was standing on the table.
Limpy stared.
Goliath seemed to be having a great time. He was grinning and flexing his muscles at the humans, and sometimes turning round and letting them see the tricks he could do with his bottom.
Limpy was amazed. Partly because the humans were all grinning as if they’d never seen anyone pick up twigs between his buttocks before. And partly because Goliath seemed to have forgotten all about his broken heart.
The pieces of equipment, Limpy realised, were cameras and lights and other filming stuff.
The humans were tourists, filming Goliath. Very rich tourists, from the size of their cameras.
Good on you, Goliath, thought Limpy. Good thinking, taking your mind off your broken heart by spending time on one or your favourite hobbies.
Showing off.
The humans were enjoying it too. They really liked Goliath, Limpy could see. With a bit of luck, when they got back home they’d show their holiday videos to all their friends. And when people saw
that Goliath wasn’t stuffing a single thing into his mouth, word would spread that cane toads weren’t greedy after all, just friendly.
Limpy hopped closer for a better look.
At the edge of the clearing he felt something hard under his foot. He stopped, but before he could see what it was, he felt something else.
Hot breath on his back.
Limpy turned.
All he saw at first were big teeth and fierce eyes.
He hopped back, poison glands ready to squirt in self-defence. Then he saw who the teeth and eyes belonged to.
A dog.
Limpy recognised the dog’s breed. Tourists had brought dogs like this into the swamp before. A parrot had told him humans called this breed Blue Heeler. Which Limpy thought was a dopey name as the dog clearly didn’t have blue heels. Perhaps it meant the dog liked to eat things with blue heels.
The dog was glaring at Limpy.
Limpy was glad his heels were greeny-brown and warty rather than blue.
‘Step off the cable,’ said the dog.
Limpy wasn’t sure what the dog meant. Then he remembered the thing under his feet. He looked down. He was standing on an electrical cable, just like the ones humans used to connect their hairdryers to their campervans, only thicker.
‘Here’s my suggestion,’ said the dog. ‘If you step off the cable, I won’t have to hurt you and you won’t want to hurt me back and we’ll all be completely unhurt, you, me and the cable.’
Limpy hopped off the cable.
‘Good man,’ said the dog. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ said Limpy.
‘Nice place you’ve got here,’ said the dog.
‘Thanks,’ said Limpy.
He was about to say goodbye and go over to Goliath, but he stopped. The dog seemed friendly and only a little bit violent. Goliath was doing such a good job with the humans, Limpy decided he might as well stay and chat. Dogs knew a lot of humans. Maybe this one would help spread the message about friendly cane toads.
‘Have you been to a swamp before?’ Limpy asked.
‘Heaps,’ said the dog. ‘We shoot in them a lot.’
Limpy went tense until he remembered that ‘shoot’ was another word for ‘film’.
‘We’re a TV crew from the city,’ said the dog. ‘My human takes care of the cameras and things.’
Limpy’s insides gave a little hop of excitement.
‘Are you making a TV show about cane toads?’ he asked.
The dog hesitated.
‘Sort of,’ it replied.
Limpy pointed to the picnic table, where Goliath was entertaining another human, a woman with elegant black hair and red lips and a friendly face. She was tickling Goliath’s tummy and feeding him grasshoppers.
‘Will Goliath be on TV?’ asked Limpy.
The dog hesitated again.
‘Sort of,’ it said.
Limpy was puzzled. For someone who’d started a conversation, the dog wasn’t a very good converser.
‘Anyway,’ said the dog, ‘can’t stand here chatting. We’ll be packing up soon. Nice to meet you.’
Limpy said it was nice for him too, then hopped closer to the picnic table, hoping to catch Goliath’s eye and signal to him to slow down with the grasshopper eating and perhaps offer them around to the humans.
Before he could, Charm came over, breathless with what Limpy assumed was excitement.
‘Look,’ she said, pointing to the picnic table.
‘I know,’ said Limpy. ‘Isn’t it fantastic? Goliath’s going to be on a TV show about cane toads, and as far as I can tell it’s a show about how funny and friendly and clever with our buttocks we are.’
Limpy wanted to say, ‘and also how we’re not the slightest bit greedy,’ but he was starting to get worried by how many grasshoppers Goliath was eating.
‘No,’ said Charm, ‘it isn’t fantastic at all.’
She wasn’t just breathless, Limpy realised, she was also upset, and pointing urgently at the table.
Limpy saw why.
Goliath was really showing off now, stuffing lots of grasshoppers into his mouth, and a couple of pens, and the TV woman’s makeup bag.
The TV woman didn’t seem upset. She was laughing. And offering Goliath one of her shoes.
An awful thought burned through Limpy.
What if this isn’t a nice TV show about how friendly and funny and kind and generous cane toads are? What if it’s like the horrible one on Ancient Abigail’s tablet about how we’re mean and greedy and in urgent need of being stamped out?
That would explain why the TV woman was trying to make Goliath look as greedy as possible by giving him her other shoe.
All Goliath cares about, thought Limpy gloomily, is getting a lift to the city to find Penny, so no wonder he’s going along with it. Specially as he likes eating shoes so much.
‘Look,’ said Charm again with an anguished croak.
Limpy saw that Charm wasn’t pointing at Goliath, she was pointing under the table.
Goliath’s energetic gobbling was making the table shake. Under the table, a cloth cover was sliding off something.
Limpy’s warts froze with horror.
It was a wire cage, full of cane toads, all struggling to get out.
‘Goliath,’ yelled Limpy, partly as a warning and partly to let Goliath know an urgent rescue was needed.
But Goliath was so deeply involved with showing off, he hadn’t even noticed the cage.
The other cane toads had.
Screams and croaks rang through the clearing.
Rellies and neighbours hopped in every direction.
Limpy heard a familiar wail from the table.
Goliath, he saw, had finally noticed the cage full of cane toads. Mostly because the TV woman had picked him up and put him in with them.
Limpy flung himself towards the cage.
The clearing was in complete chaos. Cane toads were desperately trying to get out of the way of one of the four-wheel drives. It was revving its engine, and the TV woman and several of the other humans were getting in.
Limpy tried to struggle through the crowd.
He couldn’t.
Too late.
Another human opened the back flap of the four-wheel drive and put the cage of cane toads inside and closed the flap.
The four-wheel drive accelerated away.
Limpy felt someone grab him. It was Charm.
‘They’re taking Goliath,’ she said. ‘We have to do something.’
‘One of us has to keep Mum and Dad safe,’ said Limpy. ‘We can’t leave them alone. I’ll get Goliath back.’
Charm looked at Limpy, and he could see from the fierce gleam in her eyes that she thought she’d be better at getting Goliath back.
Limpy gave her a pleading look.
One that said, I have to do this. Because if I hadn’t been so dopey with all that stuff about a toad doing what a toad’s got to do, Goliath wouldn’t be in a cage in a TV vehicle heading to who-knows-where.
‘Let me do it,’ he said to Charm. ‘Please.’
Charm gave him another look, still fierce but also understanding.
She hugged him and went.
Limpy squinted down the bush track. The four-wheel drive was already out of sight.
But the other one wasn’t.
It was still parked.
Limpy headed towards it.
‘A lift?’
The Blue Heeler frowned at Limpy and showed even more of its teeth.
Limpy had the feeling this dog wasn’t a big lift-giver. It was hard to imagine this dog ever grinning and saying ‘hop in’, not even if Limpy’s heels were bright blue with attractive turquoise stripes.
‘Please,’ begged Limpy.
‘Begging isn’t very dignified,’ said the dog.
‘I’m doing it for my cousin,’ said Limpy. ‘He’s in the other four-wheel drive. I need to rescue him.’
The dog looked uncomfortable and rubbed
its back against a tyre.
Limpy wasn’t sure if the dog had fleas or was just worried by the thought of how dangerous the rescue would be.
‘I need to go where the other four-wheel drive has gone, said Limpy. ‘I’m only asking for a lift. I’m not asking you to do the actual rescue.’
The dog was still looking uncomfortable.
‘You don’t want to go to that place,’ it said. ‘You don’t want to see what’s going to happen there.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Limpy.
‘You don’t want to know,’ said the dog.
Limpy took a deep breath.
Goliath needed him to be patient now. No yelling or squirting poison or trying to get one of the dog’s feet into his mouth.
Limpy wondered if he could stow away on the four-wheel drive without the dog knowing. Probably not. The dog’s job was obviously to guard things. With its teeth.
‘Anyway,’ said the dog. ‘What makes you think you can even rescue your cousin? One of the biggest TV networks in the country needs him for more filming back in the studio. Which has security like you wouldn’t believe. Have you seen the movie Escape From Alcatraz?’
‘No,’ said Limpy.
‘Nor have I,’ said the dog. ‘I tried to sneak in to see it, but studio security wouldn’t let me. They are so tough.’
Limpy lost his patience.
‘I know how to rescue my own cousin, all right?’ he snapped at the dog.
‘How?’ growled the dog.
Limpy hesitated. He may have exaggerated a bit about the actual knowing. But he was sure he could come up with something.
‘In my family,’ said Limpy quietly, ‘we believe one individual can make a difference.’
The dog opened its mouth to say something scornful, then closed it again and stared at Limpy, impressed.
‘That is a great concept,’ said the dog. ‘That would make a great TV show. I should pitch that idea to the network. A show about small, slightly squashed individuals who make a difference. That’s exactly what I’ve been looking for to get my TV career off the ground. With an idea like that they’d make me an associate producer, minimum.’
‘Give me a lift,’ said Limpy, ‘and it’s yours.’
‘Deal,’ said the dog. ‘I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Sometimes my human takes a little while to get what I’m telling him, but you’ll have that lift in two weeks, three tops.’
Toad Delight Page 4
