Toad Heaven - Morris Gleitzman [34]
“Ah,” he said. “It's slightly different for me. I'm food, you see. Food is allowed to eat food. All sorts of big creatures have got me on their menu. I eat little things, big things eat me. That's fair. But you eat little things and nothing eats you. That's not fair.”
Goliath stared at the lizard, gobsmacked.
“Actually,” said Limpy, “we might be food. I've heard rumors of crows out west who've learned to flip us over and eat the soft juicy bits on the insides of our legs and tummies.”
Goliath crossed his legs and looked pale.
“Sorry,” said Limpy to Goliath and Charm.
“That's okay,” said Charm. “I've heard that too.”
“Rumors,” said the lizard sourly. “I'm talking about rules, not rumors. The fact is, you're not food, so you can't live here.”
Goliath glared at the lizard.
“What if we come back here with millions of our mates?” he asked. “Who's gunna stop us living here then?”
Limpy watched anxiously. He saw Charm was too.
When Goliath got worked up, things could get ugly.
The lizard thought calmly about this.
“If there were enough of you, we probably couldn't stop you,” he said. “Nor could the national park rangers. But it wouldn't be much of a toad heaven, would it? A place where all the other inhabitants hated you and an army of rangers was trying to kill you.”
“Might be,” said Goliath hotly.
“No,” said Limpy sadly. “It wouldn't.”
Goliath turned angrily to Limpy.
“Don't agree with this crawler,” he said. “What are you saying?”
“I'm saying,” said Limpy, “that if we want to live here, we're going to have to change our diet.”
“This mud,” said Goliath, “tastes yucky.”
Limpy sighed.
Goliath was right.
Even when you made it into mouse and cockroach shapes and added grass stems as whiskers, it still tasted like … mud.
“Spit it out, then,” said Limpy.
“No,” said Goliath indignantly. “I'm not gunna waste it.”
He swallowed it with a grimace.
“I don't think this is going to work,” said Charm. “I know I haven't got much appetite, but I don't think I'm ever going to be able to swallow these twigs.”
She took a wad of wet twigs from her mouth and showed Limpy.
He saw what she meant. She'd been sucking them for ages and they still hadn't gone soft.
Oh dear, thought Limpy. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea.
“I'm sick of this,” said Goliath. “We've been squatting by this dumb swamp all morning trying to change our diet, and it's not working. Those pebbles I swallowed still haven't come out, and they're hurting my tummy.”
Limpy nodded sympathetically.
The dead leech he'd eaten hadn't agreed with him either. Every time he burped he could still taste the mold.
“We've got to think harder,” said Limpy. “There must be other things we can try that aren't living.”
He saw Goliath's tongue dart out.
“Goliath,” said Limpy wearily. “Please don't eat ants.”
“I need something to take away the taste of the mud,” protested Goliath.
Charm hopped to her feet.
“How about the things Goliath was eating in the rucksacks?” she said. “Socks and deodorant sticks and hat flakes. We could try living on human stuff.”
“Good thought,” said Goliath.
“It is,” said Limpy. “But humans aren't allowed to feed animals in national parks, and I just don't think they're going to accidentally drop enough socks to keep us alive.”
“I've got it!” yelled Goliath. “I'll break into their buses while they're taking photos of the waterfall and nick stuff. Skin cream, toothpaste, hairbrushes…”
Limpy shook his head.
“All right,” said Goliath. “I'll scrape dead insects off the fronts of the buses. That's not stealing, that's cleaning.”
“Another good thought,” said Limpy. “But we came here to get away from humans, not have you risk your neck getting too close to them.”
“I don't mind,” said Goliath. “Honest.”
“I don't either,” said Charm.
Limpy looked at them both and his eyes pricked with love for them.
“I know you don't,” he said quietly. “I don't either. But we don't want Mum and Dad and the others risking their necks with buses, do we? Because, well, we might not be around for … you know … forever.”
Limpy looked at Charm and