Toad Rage - Morris Gleitzman [29]
Limpy felt awful saying it. Thinking was really hard and painful for Goliath. He could tell by the way Goliath's warts went pale while he did it.
Goliath's warts were pale now and he was frowning and staring into the distance.
“Table tennis,” he was mumbling. “Rowing. Cricket. Knitting …”
Then suddenly his eyes opened wide.
“I've got it,” he said.
Limpy saw that Goliath was staring at a human riding a bike on the other side of the park.
“Good thought,” said Limpy sadly. “They said on telly that cycling's a really important event. But your feet wouldn't even reach the pedals.”
“I'm not talking about cycling,” said Goliath. “I'm talking about jamming a stick through the front spokes of that bike. That human would be on the ground in a heap before you could say, 'I'm gunna bash you up, you murdering mongrel.'“
Limpy sighed again.
“We're trying to make humans like us, remember?” he said. “I just don't think bashing them up is going to help. Now come on, think of some Games events we haven't tried.”
Goliath scowled. “This whole idea stinks. We've been in this dumb park all morning. I've got pulled muscles from trying to do gymnastics on the monkey bars, splinters from when that twig archery bow broke, and bruises on my bum from discovering I can't grass ski. I reckon we should forget being Games champions and bash up some humans instead.” “I've got a better idea,” said Limpy. “Come on.” “Blow up some humans?” said Goliath hopefully as
he hopped after Limpy. “Mess up some humans'
hair?”
Limpy carefully pushed up the small grating, clambered out of the drain, and helped Goliath squeeze out after him.
“Careful of these tiles,” he said. “They're wet and slippery.”
He looked around.
Along one wall was a row of lockers, along the other a row of showers.
“Oh yuk,” said Goliath, shuddering. “Is this where humans wash?”
Limpy nodded. Even though the showers were empty, it was a pretty scary sight.
“I get it,” said Goliath, suddenly excited. “We've come to steal their soap and shampoo.”
“No,” said Limpy wearily. “We haven't come to do that.”
“I don't get it then,” said Goliath. “Why bother breaking into the athletes' changing rooms if we're not gunna strike a blow for cane toads everywhere and mess up their toilet bags?”
“Because,” said Limpy patiently as he led Goliath across the tiles, “we're here to find the athletic storeroom.”
“And break all the equipment,” said Goliath hopefully.
Limpy wondered if a cold shower would help cool down Goliath's brain.
There wasn't time.
He could hear the crowd cheering outside in the stadium. As soon as the event was over, the changing rooms would be thronging with athletes and Games officials and security guards and big dogs hungry for revenge.
“We have to be quick,” said Limpy as he led Goliath into the next room. “We need to find some athletic equipment for an event we can be good at. And we have to do it without anyone seeing us.”
“Too late,” said a voice.
Limpy froze.
Goliath bumped into him, then froze.
“Fancy seeing you blokes again,” said the voice.
Limpy looked around, not daring to breathe.
Then his breath squeaked out in a big sigh of relief.
It was the mosquito from the girl athlete's room, lying on a windowsill, legs crossed, wings folded behind his head, grinning at them.
“Sorry if I startled you,” he said. “I was just having a bit of a lie-down between morning tea and my prelunch snack.” The mosquito patted his bulging belly and burped. “I love the Games.”
“You're lucky,” grumbled Goliath. “I'm not allowed to eat most of the food around here.”
“Nice to see you again,” said Limpy to the mosquito. “You'll have to excuse us, we're a bit busy.”
He turned to lead Goliath toward the next room, and froze again.
There, in front of him, was a pile of round, flat objects stacked one on top of the other.
Limpy felt his body start to tremble.
They looked like … no, they couldn't be …
“Discuses,” said the mosquito. “Humans chuck em. Very popular event, throwing the discus.”
Limpy