cartwheels. He felt like kissing everyone round the table.
Instead he looked up gratefully at the girl. She was grinning happily too.
Then her grin faded.
Limpy turned round and saw why.
At the other end of the table, the bloke with the clipboard was holding up a fluffy cane toad toy for the other humans to examine.
Except, Limpy saw as he stared in horror, it wasn't fluffy.
It wasn't even a toy.
It was the dry stuffed skin of a real cane toad.
Limpy felt sick and dizzy.
He struggled with his breathing while the other humans passed the stuffed corpse among themselves, obviously delighted. The only voice raised in protest, Limpy was dimly aware, was the girl's.
He couldn't see her expression.
He couldn't take his eyes off the bloke with the clipboard, who was standing next to a map of Australia on the wall. He picked up the stuffed corpse and pointed to North Queensland with a smile.
The bloke spoke some words and Limpy, sick with horror and despair, knew exactly what they meant.
“Plenty more where this one came from.”
“L et me get this straight,” said Goliath.
He was speaking loudly so Limpy could hear him over the hubbub of journalists and TV crews on the other side of the curtain.
“We're gunna go onstage at this international press conference, a press conference being held specially to introduce Australia's new most loved species—i.e., us—to the world, and be disgusting.”
“More than disgusting,” said Limpy. “We're going to show the world just how vile, revolting, and repugnant cane toads really are.”
Goliath frowned. Then understanding crept slowly across his big warty face.
Limpy looked up at the girl and gave her a nod.
Holding Limpy in one hand and Goliath in the other, the girl stepped through the curtain onto the stage.
Limpy was almost blinded by flashing cameras and glaring TV lights.
The girl put him and Goliath down on a table in front of her.
Limpy noticed that most of the cameras were pointing at him and Goliath rather than her.
Good, he thought.
With an encouraging grin to both of them, the girl opened the tin of mud worms they'd spent all morning collecting. She tipped them out onto the table.
As he picked the first one up and dropped it wriggling and alive into his mouth, Limpy noticed some of the journalists and cameramen screwing up their faces.
By the time he and Goliath had half a dozen worms, each wriggling down their throats, Limpy was pleased to see some of the cameras being turned away and some of the journalists looking a bit ill.
He could tell they were going right off the idea that cane toads were lovable.
The international market for stuffed cane toads, thought Limpy with grim satisfaction, will be history in about two minutes.
He turned round so the journalists all had a good view of his bottom.
L impy sat in the middle of the highway and let the warm North Queensland night air caress his skin and soothe the sore armpits he'd got from two days on the back of a mango truck.
It was good to be home.
Then he heard a distant rumble.
This is it, he thought, warts suddenly prickling with tension.
A vehicle was approaching at speed.
Limpy looked anxiously up at Goliath, who was sitting next to him on the bitumen. Goliath met his eyes for a moment.
“Here goes,” muttered Goliath.
Limpy looked even more anxiously down at Charm, who was sitting on the other side of him.
“I love you, Limpy,” said Charm. “I'm saying it now in case we don't get a chance afterward.”
Limpy stroked her cheek and felt his insides glow with love for her, and his crook leg ache with anxiety.
He held his breath.
The vehicle, a huge semi, was almost at the crossing.
Limpy gripped his stick and faced the oncoming headlights, grim and determined.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Goliath raise his stick.
“Come and get us, you mongrels,” yelled Goliath.
Limpy, trembling, wanted to grab Charm and hop for the grass verge, but he didn't.
He saw Charm
Instead he looked up gratefully at the girl. She was grinning happily too.
Then her grin faded.
Limpy turned round and saw why.
At the other end of the table, the bloke with the clipboard was holding up a fluffy cane toad toy for the other humans to examine.
Except, Limpy saw as he stared in horror, it wasn't fluffy.
It wasn't even a toy.
It was the dry stuffed skin of a real cane toad.
Limpy felt sick and dizzy.
He struggled with his breathing while the other humans passed the stuffed corpse among themselves, obviously delighted. The only voice raised in protest, Limpy was dimly aware, was the girl's.
He couldn't see her expression.
He couldn't take his eyes off the bloke with the clipboard, who was standing next to a map of Australia on the wall. He picked up the stuffed corpse and pointed to North Queensland with a smile.
The bloke spoke some words and Limpy, sick with horror and despair, knew exactly what they meant.
“Plenty more where this one came from.”
“L et me get this straight,” said Goliath.
He was speaking loudly so Limpy could hear him over the hubbub of journalists and TV crews on the other side of the curtain.
“We're gunna go onstage at this international press conference, a press conference being held specially to introduce Australia's new most loved species—i.e., us—to the world, and be disgusting.”
“More than disgusting,” said Limpy. “We're going to show the world just how vile, revolting, and repugnant cane toads really are.”
Goliath frowned. Then understanding crept slowly across his big warty face.
Limpy looked up at the girl and gave her a nod.
Holding Limpy in one hand and Goliath in the other, the girl stepped through the curtain onto the stage.
Limpy was almost blinded by flashing cameras and glaring TV lights.
The girl put him and Goliath down on a table in front of her.
Limpy noticed that most of the cameras were pointing at him and Goliath rather than her.
Good, he thought.
With an encouraging grin to both of them, the girl opened the tin of mud worms they'd spent all morning collecting. She tipped them out onto the table.
As he picked the first one up and dropped it wriggling and alive into his mouth, Limpy noticed some of the journalists and cameramen screwing up their faces.
By the time he and Goliath had half a dozen worms, each wriggling down their throats, Limpy was pleased to see some of the cameras being turned away and some of the journalists looking a bit ill.
He could tell they were going right off the idea that cane toads were lovable.
The international market for stuffed cane toads, thought Limpy with grim satisfaction, will be history in about two minutes.
He turned round so the journalists all had a good view of his bottom.
L impy sat in the middle of the highway and let the warm North Queensland night air caress his skin and soothe the sore armpits he'd got from two days on the back of a mango truck.
It was good to be home.
Then he heard a distant rumble.
This is it, he thought, warts suddenly prickling with tension.
A vehicle was approaching at speed.
Limpy looked anxiously up at Goliath, who was sitting next to him on the bitumen. Goliath met his eyes for a moment.
“Here goes,” muttered Goliath.
Limpy looked even more anxiously down at Charm, who was sitting on the other side of him.
“I love you, Limpy,” said Charm. “I'm saying it now in case we don't get a chance afterward.”
Limpy stroked her cheek and felt his insides glow with love for her, and his crook leg ache with anxiety.
He held his breath.
The vehicle, a huge semi, was almost at the crossing.
Limpy gripped his stick and faced the oncoming headlights, grim and determined.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Goliath raise his stick.
“Come and get us, you mongrels,” yelled Goliath.
Limpy, trembling, wanted to grab Charm and hop for the grass verge, but he didn't.
He saw Charm
Similar Books
