didn't happen.
Flatface grabbed him from behind.
“That's not fair!” yelled Limpy as he struggled in Flatface's grasp. “Your leg is just as crook as mine. How come you can hop faster? How come you're stronger?”
“Ancient Amazon health diet,” said a nearby scorpion. “And he broods a lot.”
Then something even more unfair happened.
Flatface dragged Limpy over to a large pit dug deep into the forest floor and pushed him in.
Luckily the damp leaves on the bottom were soft, and as Limpy thudded into them his warts were only dented rather than completely flattened.
When Limpy's head stopped thumping, he squinted up. Flatface was glaring down at him over the edge of the pit. He looked pretty small, and Limpy knew that meant one of two things.
Either Flatface had shrunk, or the mouth of the pit was a long way up.
Limpy wished he'd paid a bit more attention in the math lessons Dad had tried to give him, instead of spending most of the time gazing longingly at the mud slide. He had a horrible feeling the correct answer was the second one.
“Gone shy about squirting pus, eh?” said Flatface.“I think you'll change your mind when you meet yournew friends down there. I'll be back later to collect it. Bye.”
He disappeared.
I wonder what he means by new friends, thought Limpy. Probably not cane toads who like mud slides.
The answer came from the other end of the pit. It started with some loud hissing, followed by quite a lot of slithering and the sudden appearance of several pairs of red and yellow eyes staring at Limpy.
“G'day,” said Limpy. “Um, are you those giant caterpillars Raoul was telling me about? The ones that can inflate your bodies to look like big snakes?”
“No,” said a grumpy voice. “We're snakes who can fluff our scales out to look like very poisonous giant caterpillars. That's why humans dig pits to catch us. They like to watch us do it.”
“Oh,” said Limpy. “I see. And er, do you, um, eat cane toads?”
“No,” said the grumpy voice. “Not eat. Any more questions before we suck your insides out and use your skin for bedding?”
“Not really,” said Limpy.
The question he wanted to ask someone was whether he should spray the snakes to defend himself and risk some of his poison pus falling into the hands of Flatface.
It probably wasn't worth asking the snakes that.
To make conversation, Limpy was about to ask the snakes if by any chance they fancied joining him in a war against humans on bulldozers, when something prodded him in the back.
It was a stick.
A very long stick, held by someone leaning over the edge of the pit.
Limpy stared up.
It was a human kid, one of the boys he'd seen playing in the village. He recognized the colored stripes painted on the boy's chest.
Trembling, Limpy waited for the boy to stab him.
It was what some human boys did; he'd heard about it loads of times around the swamp at home. Either that or blow you up with bike pumps. They did it to pass the time while they were waiting to grow up into bulldozer drivers.
Bye, Goliath, thought Limpy sadly. I'm glad you're not here.
But the boy didn't stab him, he just prodded Limpy gently and gestured until Limpy realized the boy wanted him to hang on to the stick so he could lift him out of the pit.
Limpy hung on.
Probably wants to stab me up top where he can see better, thought Limpy as he traveled upward and the snakes muttered bitterly below.
Perhaps Flatface was right about humans after all.
But the boy didn't stab Limpy up top.
He spoke gently to Limpy in a language Limpy didn't understand, then carried him through the forest, put him down at the edge of the swamp, grinned, waved goodbye, and disappeared into the bushes, leaving Limpy feeling very confused.
W hile Limpy dug a grave on the riverbank, he had a long think.
He thought about humans, and how cruel some of them were, and how kind others of them were, and how confusing that was.
He thought about Flatface, and wondered
Flatface grabbed him from behind.
“That's not fair!” yelled Limpy as he struggled in Flatface's grasp. “Your leg is just as crook as mine. How come you can hop faster? How come you're stronger?”
“Ancient Amazon health diet,” said a nearby scorpion. “And he broods a lot.”
Then something even more unfair happened.
Flatface dragged Limpy over to a large pit dug deep into the forest floor and pushed him in.
Luckily the damp leaves on the bottom were soft, and as Limpy thudded into them his warts were only dented rather than completely flattened.
When Limpy's head stopped thumping, he squinted up. Flatface was glaring down at him over the edge of the pit. He looked pretty small, and Limpy knew that meant one of two things.
Either Flatface had shrunk, or the mouth of the pit was a long way up.
Limpy wished he'd paid a bit more attention in the math lessons Dad had tried to give him, instead of spending most of the time gazing longingly at the mud slide. He had a horrible feeling the correct answer was the second one.
“Gone shy about squirting pus, eh?” said Flatface.“I think you'll change your mind when you meet yournew friends down there. I'll be back later to collect it. Bye.”
He disappeared.
I wonder what he means by new friends, thought Limpy. Probably not cane toads who like mud slides.
The answer came from the other end of the pit. It started with some loud hissing, followed by quite a lot of slithering and the sudden appearance of several pairs of red and yellow eyes staring at Limpy.
“G'day,” said Limpy. “Um, are you those giant caterpillars Raoul was telling me about? The ones that can inflate your bodies to look like big snakes?”
“No,” said a grumpy voice. “We're snakes who can fluff our scales out to look like very poisonous giant caterpillars. That's why humans dig pits to catch us. They like to watch us do it.”
“Oh,” said Limpy. “I see. And er, do you, um, eat cane toads?”
“No,” said the grumpy voice. “Not eat. Any more questions before we suck your insides out and use your skin for bedding?”
“Not really,” said Limpy.
The question he wanted to ask someone was whether he should spray the snakes to defend himself and risk some of his poison pus falling into the hands of Flatface.
It probably wasn't worth asking the snakes that.
To make conversation, Limpy was about to ask the snakes if by any chance they fancied joining him in a war against humans on bulldozers, when something prodded him in the back.
It was a stick.
A very long stick, held by someone leaning over the edge of the pit.
Limpy stared up.
It was a human kid, one of the boys he'd seen playing in the village. He recognized the colored stripes painted on the boy's chest.
Trembling, Limpy waited for the boy to stab him.
It was what some human boys did; he'd heard about it loads of times around the swamp at home. Either that or blow you up with bike pumps. They did it to pass the time while they were waiting to grow up into bulldozer drivers.
Bye, Goliath, thought Limpy sadly. I'm glad you're not here.
But the boy didn't stab him, he just prodded Limpy gently and gestured until Limpy realized the boy wanted him to hang on to the stick so he could lift him out of the pit.
Limpy hung on.
Probably wants to stab me up top where he can see better, thought Limpy as he traveled upward and the snakes muttered bitterly below.
Perhaps Flatface was right about humans after all.
But the boy didn't stab Limpy up top.
He spoke gently to Limpy in a language Limpy didn't understand, then carried him through the forest, put him down at the edge of the swamp, grinned, waved goodbye, and disappeared into the bushes, leaving Limpy feeling very confused.
W hile Limpy dug a grave on the riverbank, he had a long think.
He thought about humans, and how cruel some of them were, and how kind others of them were, and how confusing that was.
He thought about Flatface, and wondered
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