Too full of hopes and wishes.
Please, he whispered silently to the universe, or at least the part of it that was in the drainpipe. Please let the cooking show chef still be here. Please let her agree to taste some fresh frothy dribble and discover the deliciousness of Toad Delight. And please let humans be grateful that cane toads are happy to share it with them for ever.
A mighty rumble echoed along the pipe.
For a moment Limpy thought it was the universe answering.
‘Sorry,’ said Goliath.
‘That’s OK,’ said Limpy, a bit disappointed.
If it had been the universe replying, he could have asked it why the weather was being so unfriendly these days.
After a while they reached the end of the pipe. It had mesh across it, blocking their exit.
Goliath, perked up by his snack, thumped the mesh until it popped off.
‘Good on you,’ said Limpy.
They wriggled out into a big room with puddles of water on the floor.
Parked there were the four-wheel drives that had brought them from the swamp. The vehicles both had water dripping off them.
‘I think they’ve just been washed,’ said Limpy. ‘Which means probably some of the cooking show humans are still here.’
Goliath was looking worried.
‘Do we have to go back into that studio again?’ he said. ‘Last time we barely got away from there with our buttocks in one piece.’
Limpy sighed.
Goliath was brave and kind and generous, but sometimes he needed things explained a few times.
Limpy stood on tiptoe and put his hands on Goliath’s big shoulders.
‘You and Penny did something wonderful today,’ he said. ‘Thanks to you, there’s a girl who knows how kind and generous cane toads can be.’
‘And all her classmates,’ said Goliath. ‘They know too.’
‘Yes,’ said Limpy. ‘They do. And it’s a great start. But we want all humans to know that. And with the help of your frothy dribble, they will.’
Goliath thought about this. His big face lit up with pride. Then he paused.
‘Does that mean I have to be whizzed around again?’ he said.
Limpy nodded.
‘In that machine?’ said Goliath.
Limpy nodded again.
Goliath grinned.
‘Hooray,’ he said. ‘Dribble city. Let’s do it.’
The lights were on in the corridor leading from the vehicle-washing room, and before Limpy was very far along it, he recognised it as the corridor that led to the TV cooking show studio.
‘We’re in luck,’ he whispered to Goliath.
‘Stick with me,’ said Goliath. ‘I’ve got lucky warts.’
When Limpy saw that the studio door was open a crack, and lights were on inside, he had to agree.
But once they’d hopped into the studio, Limpy felt their luck running out.
There were no humans to be seen.
Not the chef, or her production assistants. Not even any cleaners who might be prepared to take a break and taste a bit of Toad Delight.
The studio was empty.
Then Limpy heard the buzz of voices in the distance.
He peered around and saw a small group over on the cooking show set.
Not humans.
Insects.
Limpy hopped over to them, Goliath at his side. A familiar voice was speaking.
‘Very disappointing,’ the mosquito was saying to the two flies. ‘Just goes to show, in this cooking game, never listen to rumours. Or ants. Specially not dopey ants who reckon that cane toad frothy dribble is the best thing they’ve ever tasted. Frankly, I think it’s revolting.’
Limpy saw that the mosquito and the two flies were tasting old frothy dribble they’d scraped off the kitchen bench.
Frothy dribble that was very hard and very dry and not frothy.
‘Excuse me,’ said Limpy.
The mosquito glanced up, saw Limpy and looked like it had just been sprayed.
‘Oh no,’ it said. ‘I am so embarrassed. Please forgive me. I shouldn’t have said any of those terrible things. I should have waited till I could post them online anonymously.’
‘It’s OK,’ said Limpy. ‘But if you want to try Toad Delight, you should try it fresh.’
‘Fresh frothy dribble?’ said the mosquito.
‘Yes,’ said Limpy.
‘Yes,’ said Goliath.
‘Yum,’ said the flies.
But Limpy could see there was a problem. The whizzing machine wasn’t there. The chef must have packed it away.
‘Is the chef around anywhere?’ Limpy asked the insects hopefully.
The flies chortled.
‘She’s been fired,’ said the mosquito. ‘The network’s looking for a replacement. I offered, but you know how it is.’
Limpy felt a bit bad. The TV chef had probably lost her job because of the frothy dribble chaos in the studio. But then Limpy remembered she’d sliced the buttocks off quite a few cane toads, so he didn’t feel very sorry for her.
He concentrated on the task at hand.
This news was a setback but not a disaster. A new TV chef would be hired soon. Best to have some fresh Toad Delight ready and waiting.
‘Is there anything here that’s flat and slippery?’ said Limpy.
The mosquito pointed to a room at the back of the set. Limpy went to investigate.
Amazing. Stored in the room was all the food used on the cooking show. Shelves and cupboards and boxes and baskets and fridges and freezers, all full of food.
Limpy heard a strangled squeak behind him.
It was Goliath, looking around the room. His eyes were bulging and his tongue was quivering.
‘Not yet,’ said Limpy. ‘We’ll do the dribble first, then you can have a snack.’
Goliath agreed. With only a couple of small grumbles. And one very small tantrum.
Limpy found a pack of salami slices. Goliath ripped it open, but before he could start eating it Limpy pulled a slice out of the packet and carefully placed it on the kitchen bench.
‘Sit on it with your knees under your chin,’ said Limpy.
Goliath did.
‘Ow,’ he said.
‘What?’ said Limpy.
‘It’s got chilli in it,’ said Goliath.
‘We’ll be quick,’ said Limpy.
He grabbed Goliath’s arm and started running.He spun Goliath around faster and faster. Limpy had never run so fast.
For the first time in his life, he was glad his crook leg made him run in circles. He was whizzing around now, and so was Goliath.
But so far, no frothy dribble.
Please, begged Limpy silently. Frothy dribble. We need you.
Limpy’s plea was answered when a big gob of frothy dribble slopped him in the face. He kept whizzing round for a while longer, then slowed down until he and Goliath came to a stop.
All that was moving was the frothy dribble dripping off both their chins.
Limpy didn’t hesitate. He slurped a big mouthful. So did Goliath. And the mosquito and the two flies. They all looked at each other, all swooshing it around their mouths and smacking their lips.
None of the others looked happy.
Limpy sagged.
This frothy dribble didn’t taste anything like the stuff he’d tasted by the highway. It wasn’t sweet, or tangy, or full of yummy flavours. It was ordinary. Bland. It tasted like dribble, just a bit frothier.
‘Ordinary,’ said the mosquito.
‘Bland,’ said one of the flies.
‘Just dribble,’ said the other one.
‘I don’t get it,’ said Goliath. ‘Unless . . . maybe your frothy dribble only goes delicious when you’re in love.’
Limpy frowned. That didn’t seem likely. Mum and Dad were in love, but ants had never hurled themselves at their dribble.
‘Maybe it’s something to do with those bike vehicles,’ said Limpy. ‘Or the stretchy clothes hum
ans wear when they ride them. Goliath, when you were whizzing round on the bike, did you put anything into your mouth?’
Limpy knew it was unlikely, but possible.
‘Life’s full of mysteries, isn’t it, young fella?’ said a voice behind him.
Limpy’s warts went cold.
He turned.
The dog from the TV crew was standing very close, looking at Limpy with a very grim expression that included quite a lot of teeth.
‘For example,’ said the dog, ‘it was a mystery to me why you disappeared when we had a deal.’
Limpy didn’t know what to say.
The dog’s teeth looked even bigger and sharper than before.
‘Oh well,’ said the dog. ‘Things move fast in the TV industry. The network has got a new weather man who uses science instead of crook legs. And they’ve decided not to do another cooking show for a while. So I’m sure you two won’t mind hopping back into the cage.’
Limpy didn’t like the sound of that. Goliath clearly didn’t either.
‘You’re not taking me, you mongrel,’ he yelled.
Goliath leaped off the bench and disappeared into the food storage room. He reappeared gripping a large stick and headed towards the dog in a menacing way.
‘You’re not taking my cousin either, fleabag,’ growled Goliath.
Oh no, thought Limpy. If Goliath tries to whack the dog, we’re goners. Instead of solving the Toad Delight mystery, we’ll end up with blue heels after all. Because we’ll be dead.
Goliath took a few more menacing steps.
The dog drew itself up to its full height, which was high, and bared its teeth, which were definitely big. And sharp.
Goliath stopped. He sniffed the stick.
‘Hang on,’ he said.
He gave the stick a lick.
‘I’ve tasted this before,’ he said. ‘Delicious.’
The mosquito and the flies buzzed over and tasted the stick too.
‘It is delicious,’ said the mosquito. ‘Sweet and tangy and full of yummy flavours. But then sugar cane always is.’
Limpy stared at the stick.
He recognised it now. Exactly the same type of green stick as the one Goliath had found by the side of the highway and jammed into the wheel of the human’s bike. The same type of stick Goliath had been hanging onto when he first gave the world Toad Delight.
Sugar cane.
It didn’t grow in the swamp, but sometimes it fell off passing cane trucks.
Stack me, thought Limpy, sagging with weary disappointment. Frothy dribble isn’t Toad Delight after all.
It’s Sugar Cane Delight.
Goliath was staring at the stick of sugar cane too. It was hanging loosely in his hand, not even a tiny bit menacing.
‘Oops,’ he said miserably. ‘I think we’ve made a bit of a mistake.’
Limpy didn’t reply.
It was all too overwhelming and crushing and awful.
The best chance cane toads had ever had to win the affection and love of humans, gone, finished, never even existed.
‘Cheer up,’ said the dog. ‘It’s not all bad news. Tomorrow I start work on a brand-new series.’
‘Congratulations,’ said Limpy weakly.
‘With both of you, if you want,’ said the dog to Limpy and Goliath. ‘It’s a new science show. The producer wants to do the first one on cane toads. Film them in their natural habitat, doing what cane toads do. Tomorrow morning we’re going back to your swamp. Thought you blokes might like the chance to tag along, tell your folks to be on their best behaviour. All you’ve got to do is hop into the cage and leave the rest to us.’
Limpy stared at the dog.
Was this true? Was it a genuine offer? Or a cruel piece of trickery and revenge? For all Limpy knew, the network could be planning a new handicraft series. Episode one. Cane toad placemats.
‘It’s a win-win situation,’ said the dog. ‘You get to go home and we get good shots of cane toads who don’t mind us being close and personal with the camera.’
‘Very good plan,’ said the mosquito to the dog. ‘I reckon you’ll be an executive producer after this.’
Limpy’s head was spinning.
Should he grab Goliath and run for it, or take a chance?
‘Well?’ said the dog.
Limpy looked at Goliath and saw that Goliath was thinking the same thing as him. This was their last chance to make a difference.
Goliath put his arm round Limpy’s shoulders and looked squarely at the dog.
‘Just one question we need you to answer,’ said Goliath.
‘What’s that?’ said the dog.
‘Will we get grasshoppers?’ said Goliath.
Limpy sighed.
The dog ignored Goliath.
‘What’s your decision?’ said the dog to Limpy. ‘Last chance.’
Limpy took a deep breath.
‘Put us in the cage,’ he said.
The dog was telling the truth. Limpy could hardly speak, he was so relieved.
So relieved, and so nervous.
This was their last chance.
Things had to happen here in the swamp today that had never happened before.
‘Thank goodness,’ said Mum, hugging Limpy and Goliath. ‘Thank goodness you’re all right.’
She and Dad and Charm were glowing with delight, but Limpy could tell they were nervous too, about the TV crew being back.
While the humans unloaded their gear and set up the camera, Limpy took Mum and Dad and Charm and some of the other cane toads to one side for a chat.
‘They want to film us in our natural habitat,’ he explained. ‘Doing what we usually do.’
‘You know the sort of thing,’ said Goliath. ‘Stuffing aphids into ants and then stuffing the ants into beetles and then stuffing the beetles into slugs and then marinating them.’
Limpy sighed.
Goliath seemed to have forgotten the long talk they’d had in the cage last night. The one where Goliath had promised not to put more than one species at a time into his mouth in front of the cameras. Or anything at all into his bottom.
Limpy looked at the serious faces around him, all waiting to hear what he was going to say next.
This won’t be easy, he thought. Persuading everyone to do the opposite of what we usually do.
Mum was looking thoughtful.
‘I reckon,’ she said, ‘we should do the opposite of what we usually do. Not stuff ourselves. Not be greedy. I reckon that would make a nice change.’
Limpy stared at Mum.
‘That’s right,’ he said weakly.
‘We were talking about it yesterday,’ said Dad. ‘Another big storm hit and we were cactus because you were away and we’d eaten all the storm beetles.’
‘And not just storm beetles,’ said Charm. ‘You know how the leaf-bug-gobbling march flies used to keep the leaf bug numbers under control?’
Limpy nodded.
‘We ate the last few leaf-bug-gobbling march flies a couple of days ago,’ said Charm.
She pointed up into the trees.
Limpy stared. The leaves were covered with leaf bugs.
‘It’s not our fault,’ said one of the leaf bugs. ‘We’re uncomfortable with this too.’
‘You were right, Limpy,’ said Charm. ‘What you said before you went away. We’ve been greedy and things need to change.’
Limpy wanted to give her a hug, but there was too much to do.
The dog came over.
‘Camera’s ready,’ it said. ‘Let’s get started.’
‘Standing by,’ said Limpy.
The humans moved closer with the camera.
‘Of course,’ said a loud voice nearby, ‘I can fit heaps of those leaf bugs into my mouth if I want to. Probably more if I spit my chewing gum out first.’
Limpy turned round.
Goliath was sitting against a tree with his arm round a camera bag.
‘Goliath,’ hissed Limpy.
‘Sor
ry,’ said Goliath, pushing the bag away.
‘Action! yelled the human director.
Limpy didn’t understand the word, but he could tell by the way the human holding the camera crouched down low and put the camera very close to him that it was time to be nice.
‘Charm,’ he said. ‘Would you like an ant?’
He held one out to her.
‘Just a leg, thanks,’ said Charm. ‘So there’s some left for the others.’
‘Oh, go on,’ said the ant. ‘Have two legs at least or you’ll be starving by lunchtime.’
‘Dad and I will share a leg,’ said Mum.
‘Will we?’ said Dad. ‘Oh yes, right.’
‘Do you have a preference?’ Mum said to the ant. ‘About which leg we take?
‘You choose,’ said the ant. ‘I’m hopeless at decisions.’
While Mum and Dad and Charm and Goliath shared the ant, and the ant’s farewell words were to compliment them on their self-control and lack of greed, Limpy looked around.
All over the swamp, cane toads were saying ‘after you’, and ‘I couldn’t possibly’, and ‘why don’t we parcel up these slime borers for the hungry toads overseas?’.
Yes, thought Limpy. At last we’re showing our good sides. When humans see this on TV, things will start to change at last.
He glanced at the human director, to see if the director had noticed how Goliath hadn’t eaten a single leaf bug yet. Limpy hoped they’d already got the shot of Goliath showing restraint, because if Goliath didn’t have a leaf bug soon, his warts would probably pop.
The human director didn’t look happy.
Neither did the dog.
Oh no, thought Limpy. What’s wrong? Has one of our lot chewed a cable or something?
The dog came over.
‘This isn’t going so well,’ said the dog. ‘Why aren’t you guys eating more?’
‘We’re fine, honest,’ said Limpy. ‘We’re not big eaters, not really.’
He could see the dog didn’t believe him.
‘Here’s the situation,’ said the dog. ‘We came out here to film you lot stuffing yourselves senseless with bugs.’
Limpy stared at the dog.
It was what he’d feared all along.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ said the dog, ‘and it’s not that. If we wanted to make you toads look bad, we’d just give your cousin an old car and let him eat the seats.’