‘Could you move?’ said the spider. ‘I’m trying to build a web here.’
‘Sorry,’ said Limpy. ‘We’ll get out of your way.’
‘But only if you say please,’ growled Goliath.
‘Actually,’ Limpy said to the spider, ‘I wonder if you can help us. Do you happen to know where Santa stores his gifts?’
The spider looked confused, then annoyed.
‘Santa?’ said the spider. ‘Gifts? Why are you asking me? I haven’t got a clue. Um, a warehouse? Is this some kind of riddle? I am busy, you know.’
Sorry,’ said Limpy. ‘One other quick question. Any idea what time Santa starts work tomorrow?’
The spider glared at Limpy and waved its arms and legs impatiently.
‘Do I look like an information website?’ it said.
‘Sorry to bother you,’ said Limpy.
He turned to go. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Goliath had grabbed the spider and was about to eat it.
‘Hang on,’ said the spider hastily. ‘I’ve just remembered. It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow. Biggest shopping day of the year. Santa will probably be working at the shopping mall, which opens at nine.’
‘Thank you,’ said Limpy. ‘You’ve been a big help.’
He nudged Goliath, who gave the spider a last longing look and then put it back on the verandah post.
Limpy’s warts tingled with excitement as he and Goliath hopped across Santa’s front yard.
‘This is perfect,’ said Limpy. ‘We can set off now, find the shopping mall, get inside before Santa arrives, and do lots of good helping things to prepare for Santa’s biggest day of the year.’
‘Can we get a pizza as well?’ said Goliath. ‘I bet North Pole pizzas are delicious.’
Before Limpy could reply, wart-chilling growls erupted from the other side of the garden fence.
Goliath hopped behind Limpy.
‘Dog-breath,’ he yelled at the vicious monster dog.
‘Goliath,’ said Limpy. ‘Don’t.’
Goliath glared at the fence. Then his expression changed.
‘Hang on,’ he said. ‘I think that dog’s inviting us over for pizza.’
‘Listen more carefully,’ said Limpy.
Goliath listened again to the growls.
‘Yuck,’ he muttered.
Limpy felt the same.
He hoped there weren’t any other vicious monster dogs in this town who liked cane-toad pizzas.
Getting to the shopping mall wasn’t easy.
This was partly because Limpy and Goliath didn’t know exactly where to find it, and partly because they weren’t exactly sure what a shopping mall was.
‘Is that it?’ said Goliath, peering into the hazy light from a row of street lamps.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Limpy. ‘I think that’s a postbox.’
‘What about that?’ said Goliath.
‘That’s a house,’ said Limpy.
They hopped on. The streets of the North Pole were full of houses and postboxes, but no shopping malls.
‘I’m fed up with this,’ said Goliath. ‘Let’s go into one of these houses and attack humans. They’re all asleep in bed. We could stick mud up their noses and squash their hair with rocks.’
‘No,’ said Limpy firmly. ‘We’re Santa’s helpers on a mission of peace and goodwill.’
‘Spoilsport,’ said Goliath. ‘What if we never find this dumb mall?’
Limpy sighed.
He’d started to ask himself the same question.
‘I don’t think there is a shopping mall,’ grumbled Goliath. ‘I think it’s just a story adults tell kids.’
After wandering around lost for the rest of the night and half the morning, Limpy and Goliath met a snail who knew where the shopping mall was.
‘Behind you,’ said the snail.
Limpy turned.
‘Stack me,’ he said.
They were in the shopping mall car park.
As they hopped closer, Limpy gazed up at the shopping mall. It was the biggest building he’d ever seen, even taller than a giant ant hill with a parents’ retreat on the roof.
Limpy could see humans walking in and out of the mall, which meant it was already open, which meant that Santa was probably already there.
‘Never mind,’ said Limpy. ‘We’ll just have to be extra good helpers to make up for being late. But first we need to find Santa.’
‘Easy,’ said Goliath, squinting around the car park. ‘Can you see any reindeer droppings?’
Limpy couldn’t.
‘Sorry,’ said Goliath. ‘I forgot. They do them in his lunchbox.’
‘Did you say Santa?’ piped up a voice.
It was a termite, munching on a wooden signpost.
‘Galleria level, near the toy shop,’ said the termite. ‘Take the lift.’
‘The lift?’ said Limpy, alarmed. ‘You mean the human lift?’
He’d heard elderly bush flies tell scary ancient legends about lifts. Big metal boxes full of humans. No windows.
‘It’s quite safe,’ said the termite. ‘I have lunch every day in the furniture store on the first floor. You’ll be fine as long as you watch out for the feet. Humans hardly ever look down in lifts, only up.’
‘Thanks,’ said Limpy.
‘This furniture store,’ said Goliath to the termite. ‘Do they sell pizzas?’
The termite was right.
Limpy and Goliath found a spot close to the lift wall, just inside the door, away from all the human feet.
None of the humans looked down.
‘What a kind termite,’ Limpy whispered to Goliath. ‘I’m glad I persuaded you not to eat it.’
Goliath didn’t look glad, just hungry.
‘This galleria level,’ he said. ‘How will we know when we get there?’
Limpy wasn’t sure.
Was galleria a number?
‘Don’t worry,’ said a cockroach standing next to them. ‘I know this mall like the back of my bottom.’
The lift stopped with a jolt and the lift doors opened.
‘First floor,’ announced the cockroach. ‘Food scraps, grease blobs, dried flakes of human skin, bedding and sleepwear.’
‘That’s me,’ said a bedbug, pushing past Limpy and Goliath.
Limpy winced as the bedbug disappeared with a faint pop under a human foot.
‘Shopping,’ sighed the cockroach. ‘Gets harder every day.’
The doors closed and the lift moved upwards.
‘Galleria level,’ said the cockroach as the doors opened again. ‘Expensive food scraps, low-fat grease blobs, moisturised flakes of human skin. Oh, and Santa Claus. Let the humans out first, please.’
Once the human feet had thundered out, Limpy thanked the cockroach and hopped out of the lift himself.
He glanced at Goliath to make sure he was safely out too.
‘Goliath,’ said Limpy. ‘Spit the cockroach out.’
Goliath spat the cockroach out.
‘Like I said,’ mumbled the cockroach as he staggered back into the lift. ‘Harder every day.’
Limpy gazed around.
The mall was huge and noisy and so bright it made his eyes go cloudy. He had to do lots of blinking before he could see clearly.
When he finally could, he nearly hopped back into the lift himself.
Herds of humans were roaming around, lumbering and jostling from shop to shop, weighed down by bags and packages.
Their faces were grim and determined.
This must be how humans look at Christmas, thought Limpy. When they’re concentrating really hard on peace and goodwill.
‘I smell pizza,’ said Goliath excitedly.
He looked down. His face fell.
‘No, hang on,’ he said. ‘It’s just my feet.’
Then Limpy saw a red suit and black boots and a white beard.
Yes.
Santa was sitting on a big chair in a sort of cave. A human child was on his knee, and a lo
ng line of human adults and children were waiting their turn. Some of them were taking photos. Limpy knew about photos. Humans took them on picnics when other humans fell into swamps.
Limpy was pleased to see that Santa didn’t look so sad today. His eyes were shining and he was saying, ‘Ho, ho, ho’, whatever that meant. The little human on his knee was laughing.
Santa’s red suit looked brighter than Limpy remembered, and his boots seemed shinier and his beard whiter and fluffier.
Must be the strong lights in here, thought Limpy.
He took a deep breath.
This was it. The moment he and Goliath showed Santa they were his new very good helpers.
Just as Limpy was wondering exactly how to do that, he noticed something else different about Santa.
His hat.
It was a floppy red one that matched his suit, with a white fluffy bit on the end that matched his beard. Last night Santa hadn’t been wearing a hat at all.
‘Jumping gerbil gizzards,’ said Goliath, elbowing Limpy in the rib warts. ‘Look at that tree. Get a load of all the stuff growing on it.’
Limpy looked to where Goliath was pointing.
Right next to them, in a very big pot, was a very big tree the same shape as a pointy-headed beetle’s pointy head. The tree was covered with blinking lights and dangling baubles and sparkling whatsits.
Limpy didn’t have a clue what most of the baubles and whatsits were. He’d never been very good at nature studies. But there were other things on the tree he did recognise.
Santa dolls.
All wearing Santa hats.
Limpy stared at the hats, his warts tingling like warts often do when you have a really good idea.
Yes, he thought. Those are perfect for us.
‘Oh well,’ said Goliath gloomily. ‘If there’s no pizza, we’d better go and start helping Santa.’
‘Not yet,’ said Limpy. ‘First we’ve got some tree climbing to do.’
Climbing the shopping mall Christmas tree wasn’t easy.
The dangling whatsits kept whacking Limpy in the head, and every time the decorative lights blinked on they made Limpy’s warts feel like bushfire-roasted gumnuts.
Also the tree was plastic.
‘Unbelievable,’ muttered Limpy as he struggled to cling on to the slippery plastic branches without being stabbed in the armpits by the prickly plastic tree-needles. ‘Humans will be making plastic grass next.’
Climbing the tree was a struggle, but definitely worth doing. When Limpy reached a branch about halfway up, he saw that hanging from it was the very thing he was after.
A small Santa doll wearing a small Santa suit and, most importantly, a small Santa hat.
Limpy reached over and tried to pull the hat off the Santa doll’s head. At first it wouldn’t budge. It seemed to be glued on. But when Limpy got closer and used his mouth, it came off.
Good old cane-toad dribble, thought Limpy. Dissolves almost anything if you use enough.
Limpy put the Santa hat on his own head.
Brilliant.
Now Santa’ll know we’re his new helpers, Limpy thought happily. All he’s got to do is look at our professional headgear.
Limpy peered through the branches to see if Goliath had got himself a hat yet. It shouldn’t be a problem, there were Santa dolls all over the tree.
‘Goliath,’ he called. ‘Have you got one?’
‘I’ve got heaps,’ replied Goliath’s distant voice.
‘Where are you?’ said Limpy.
‘Just ducking up the top for a squiz around,’ called Goliath. ‘See if I can spot the pizza shop.’
Limpy squinted up through the branches.
There was Goliath, clambering upwards, a bundle of Santa hats in his mouth.
Limpy sighed.
‘Come down,’ he said. ‘We’ve got to start our helping.’
‘Won’t be long,’ called Goliath. ‘Have a rest. Take the weight off your crook leg. Don’t worry, I’ll stay hidden.’
Limpy sighed again. When Goliath set his mind on something, all you could do was wait, unless you had a scorpion to prod him with.
Limpy waited.
While he was waiting he noticed a sock hanging from a nearby branch. Limpy knew about socks. Humans wore them on their feet. They were also an important part of Christmas. Most of the Christmas ads in the newspaper had at least one sock in them.
This sock had a pretty pattern of holly and candy canes, and was a nice green colour that reminded Limpy of Charm’s eyes.
Suddenly Limpy felt very weary. It had been a long journey.
Maybe Goliath is right, thought Limpy. I’ll have a bit of a rest before the hard helping work starts.
Limpy clambered into the sock, slipped his hat off and took the weight off his crook leg.
Ahhh.
That was better.
Except no sooner had he relaxed than someone was prodding the outside of the sock.
‘That was quick, Goliath,’ said Limpy as he stuck his head out.
But it wasn’t Goliath.
It was a human child, her head close to Limpy’s, her eyes wide as she stared at him.
She screamed.
Other humans started shouting and pointing at Limpy and some of them started screaming too.
Limpy was about to duck down inside the sock again, when he noticed that other humans were pointing to the top of the tree.
Oh no.
Had something happened to Goliath?
Limpy looked anxiously upwards.
At the very top of the tree was an angel doll in a white dress. Limpy could tell it was a doll from the way it was staring straight ahead, completely unaware of who was sitting next to it.
Goliath.
He was wearing the angel’s silver wings and halo, but his mouth was still stuffed with Santa hats, and he was peering around the mall with a hungry look.
Limpy saw that Goliath’s attempt at staying hidden wasn’t fooling the humans. Panic was spreading around the mall. Adults were grabbing children and running.
Limpy desperately tried to calm the humans.
‘Don’t be scared of us,’ he shouted. ‘We’re just Santa’s helpers. We want to be your friends. OK, we do have poison glands, but we hardly ever squirt them. I’m not planning to squirt anyone this whole Christmas holiday.’
It was hopeless. The humans couldn’t understand a croak he was saying.
Plus, thought Limpy gloomily, when panic is in the air, who listens to a cane toad in a sock?
The panicking humans were banging into each other and knocking the tree as they lumbered past. The tree was wobbling.
It was more than wobbling, it was swaying.
‘Goliath,’ yelled Limpy. ‘Hang on.’
Limpy held his breath inside the sock as the tree rocked and teetered and …
He felt himself falling and got ready for pain.
When it came, it felt like the world had crashed to pieces, and him too.
I’m dead, thought Limpy.
Then he realised that if he was thinking that, he couldn’t be. The sock had saved him. Nestled him in its Christmas fluffiness and shown him more Christmas goodwill than any sock ever had before.
‘Thank you,’ croaked Limpy, and kissed the sock.
Then he remembered Goliath.
‘Goliath,’ he shouted, dragging himself out of the sock and looking around frantically.
The world hadn’t crashed to pieces, but the tree definitely had.
Limpy scrambled through a tangle of twisted branches and dented baubles and smashed whatsits and crumpled Santa dolls and lights that were still blinking on and off, but with lots of smoke.
‘Goliath,’ yelled Limpy again.
‘Ow,’ said Goliath’s voice, and there he was, sitting on a pile of festive rubble, pulling a piece of angel wing out of one of his nostrils.
‘Come on,’ said Limpy, starting to feel sick and giddy. ‘We’ve got to get out of this smoke.’
‘I dropped the hats,’ said Goliath. ‘But I think I’ve still got one or two.’
He frowned and started rummaging around inside his mouth.
‘Hop for it,’ yelled Limpy.
He grabbed Goliath, and together they scrambled through the smoke and broken branches, and finally collapsed in a cool puddle of liquid near the lift door.
‘Ahhh,’ said Goliath. ‘That feels nice.’
It did, but all Limpy could think about was Santa.
Was he OK?
Limpy had a feeling that good helpers, wherever possible, did not crush their bosses under falling trees.
‘Mmm,’ said Goliath, tasting the puddle. ‘Melted ice-cream.’
Limpy was only half-listening.
Most of the humans in the mall had disappeared, but a few were still running around. One of them, Limpy now saw with relief, was Santa. He looked fine. He was hurrying towards some mechanical stairs that were climbing down by themselves.
Limpy stared.
It wasn’t the mechanical stairs that made his mouth fall open.
Santa was pulling his beard off as he ran. And underneath, Limpy saw in amazement, was a teenager.
‘Stack me,’ said Limpy. ‘That’s not the real Santa.’
‘I think this is choc chip,’ said Goliath, licking his lips. ‘Or vanilla with ticks in it.’
Limpy stared through the billowing smoke as the teenage Santa disappeared down the mechanical stairs.
He didn’t understand.
The real Santa was here in town. They’d ridden in the back of his ute. So why was the shopping mall using a fake Santa?
Limpy didn’t have time to work it out right now. Flames were flickering among the Christmas tree branches. Melted plastic was creeping towards him and Goliath.
‘Come on,’ said Limpy. ‘We’ve got to get out of here.’
‘One more lick,’ said Goliath, his tongue darting back into the puddle.
At that moment burning plastic dribbled into the ice-cream, making it sizzle. Goliath hastily pulled his tongue away.
‘OK,’ he said to Limpy. ‘I’ve had enough.’
But Limpy was only half-listening again. Doors were crashing open on the other side of the mall. Humans were running in.
Limpy gawked.
The humans were all wearing black boots. And red jackets and pants.
A gang of Santas?