Toad Rage - Morris Gleitzman [31]
He turned excitedly to Goliath.
“Wasn't it brilliant?” he said. “Wasn't it the most wonderful, brilliant, fantastic thing you've ever done?”
“No,” said Goliath.
It's shock, thought Limpy. He's in shock from the excitement.
“It's all right for you,” said Goliath. “You landed on nice soft grass, not in a hard rubbish bin full of really sharp sandwich wrappers.”
Limpy watched sympathetically as Goliath pulled a fragment of plastic out of his scalp, studied it glumly, and ate it.
“I hate pole vaulting,” said Goliath. “It's scary and it hurts.”
“It won't always be like that,” said Limpy. “When we're doing it in a stadium, there'll be soft mats to land on.”
Goliath didn't reply.
Limpy saw he'd picked up a handful of something green and oozy from the water.
“Is this chemical factory sludge or congealed cooking fat?” asked Goliath. “I'm starving.”
Poor old Goliath, thought Limpy. He'll cheer up when he sees how delighted the other animals and insects are that we've found our special event.
The animals and insects didn't seem that delighted.
“Um,” said the kangaroo to Limpy and Goliath, “I'm afraid there's something we have to tell you, and, well, um …”
The kangaroo looked unhappily at the koala, who stared at the drain wall and pretended to be thinking about something else.
Limpy couldn't believe it.
He'd just finished telling all the animals and insects about the pole vaulting, complete with actions and yells and a detailed description of how brave Goliath was after he landed in the rubbish bin, and now, as he looked around at all their faces, not a single one was pleased or excited.
“It's like this,” said the kangaroo. “Um …”
An awful thought hit Limpy.
Someone else must have chosen pole vaulting.
A wombat or a jellyfish or a stick insect.
Limpy opened his mouth to explain how the highly developed hopping muscles in a cane toad's legs and the superb gripping qualities of a cane toad's hands were a perfect combination for pole vaulting, but he didn't get a chance.
“We've had a meeting,” said the kangaroo. “A meeting with some head lice we know who work in television. They think the Non-Human Games idea sounds great, really exciting, but there is … um … a problem.”
Several of the other animals and insects murmured their agreement.
Limpy felt wobbly with relief.
At least no one else wanted to do pole vaulting.
At least he and Goliath could be the ones to break all the pole-vaulting records and become national sporting heroes, and make cane toads popular and loved.
At least it wasn't a big problem.
“The problem is,” said the kangaroo, “we've decided you two can't be in the Games.”
The other animals and insects all growled their agreement.
Limpy stared at them, bewildered.
Goliath took a menacing step toward the kangaroo.
“Why not?” he said. “What have you got against me and my cousin?”
“It's not the leg,” said the kangaroo hastily, backing away and glancing guiltily at Limpy. “It definitely has nothing to do with the crook leg, you must believe that. And we do acknowledge that the whole thing was your idea, and we're very grateful for that.”
“So what is it?” said Limpy, suddenly filled with a mixture of anger and dread. “Spit it out.”
“The reason we can't have any cane toads in our televised Non-Human Games,” said the kangaroo, “is that you're too ugly.”
“Ugly!” said Goliath, pacing up and down. “What do they mean, I'm ugly?”
Now that all the animals and insects had gone, his voice echoed indignantly around the empty drain.
Limpy sighed sadly.
“Lazy I could understand,” continued Goliath, “or smelly, or maybe even greedy, but ugly? I don't get it.”
Limpy sighed again.
If I had the energy, he thought miserably, I'd probably tell Goliath to calm down.
Because what does it matter now?
Most of the humans in the world think cane toads are ugly and vile and repulsive, so what does it matter if most of the animals and insects do too?
We're history, that's all that matters.
“I reckon they're just jealous,” said Goliath bitterly. “Jealous