if he was trying to rescue Goliath or the girl. Then he realized it didn't matter because he was going round in circles.
The girl saw him.
Her mouth fell open. She stared for a long time.
“Don't I know you?” she said at last.
Limpy didn't understand what she was saying, but he hoped she was pleased to see him.
The girl looked over to where the truck was being noisily unloaded at the edge of the stadium.
“Stack me,” she said. “Did you hitch a ride?”
Limpy still couldn't understand, but the sparkle inher eyes and the size of her grin gave him hope, and then a brilliant idea.
Perhaps she could help him apply to be a mascot. If he could just find a way of asking.
Behind her, he saw, on a post holding up a roof over a hillside covered in seats, was a big picture of the other mascots. Limpy went over to it, hopped up, and clung to the picture so he was between the kookaburra and the platypus.
He waited for the girl to understand.
He could see she was thinking hard.
Finally she spoke. “I'm really glad to see you guys,” she said. “You can be a big help to me tomorrow.”
Limpy was pretty sure he understood. “Yes,” he was pretty sure she'd said, “I can definitely help you apply to be a mascot.”
So, unlike Goliath, he wasn't at all worried when she picked them both up and put them in her sports bag.
“Y um,” said Goliath, “shoes.”
Limpy sighed.
He took a deep breath and tried to explain to Goliath that when a person has let you spend the night in her bath at the Games village, and shared her mushrooms on toast with you, and let you sit up late watching telly with her, and is now taking you in her bag to meet the Games Mascot Committee, it's pretty ungrateful to eat her shoes.
Goliath spat out a lace and thought about this.
“You're right,” he said after a bit. “I'll eat her socks.”
Limpy was about to snatch the sock from him when the bag tilted violently and they both went sprawling into a damp towel.
From the way the bag was moving, Limpy guessed the girl was carrying them up some steps.
The Games Mascot Committee is probably soimportant, he thought, they have their meetings up on a roof where snakes can't get them.
He'd seen the committee on telly the night before. They'd certainly looked important, sitting behind a long table showing off kookaburra pencil cases and echidna bath mats and platypus car-seat covers to a big crowd of people with cameras and notebooks.
Limpy felt his warts tingling with excitement. He hoped when he met the committee his mouth didn't get so dry with nervousness that his mucus dried up. Mum always reckoned a cane toad didn't look his best unless he had a bit of mucus on his lips.
Suddenly Limpy heard the muffled sound of applause and the chatter of human voices and the clicking of cameras.
He felt the girl unzip the bag.
Stack me, he thought. She must be going to introduce me to the Mascot Committee in front of the people with the cameras and notebooks.
Limpy hurriedly practiced his smile. He needed one that would win the hearts of humans everywhere. It wasn't easy in a dark bag without a swamp to check your reflection in.
Then suddenly the bag wasn't dark anymore. The girl had opened it and was reaching in. Heart thumping, Limpy pushed himself toward her groping hand.
But her hand slid past him and grabbed Goliath.
“Uh?” grunted Goliath, spitting out a mouthful of towel.
Limpy watched in horror as the girl lifted Goliath out of the bag. Through the open zip he could see lights on tall poles and human faces gawking. On a stage the girl held Goliath close to her cheek and smiled sweetly at the cameras.
Please, Limpy begged Goliath silently. Don't blow it. Don't attack anyone with a stick. Not today.
Limpy's view out of the bag was suddenly blocked by a human body. Limpy stood on tiptoe and saw it was the bloke in the suit with the clipboard. He was looking cross, as usual, and trying to grab Goliath from the girl.
He and the girl
The girl saw him.
Her mouth fell open. She stared for a long time.
“Don't I know you?” she said at last.
Limpy didn't understand what she was saying, but he hoped she was pleased to see him.
The girl looked over to where the truck was being noisily unloaded at the edge of the stadium.
“Stack me,” she said. “Did you hitch a ride?”
Limpy still couldn't understand, but the sparkle inher eyes and the size of her grin gave him hope, and then a brilliant idea.
Perhaps she could help him apply to be a mascot. If he could just find a way of asking.
Behind her, he saw, on a post holding up a roof over a hillside covered in seats, was a big picture of the other mascots. Limpy went over to it, hopped up, and clung to the picture so he was between the kookaburra and the platypus.
He waited for the girl to understand.
He could see she was thinking hard.
Finally she spoke. “I'm really glad to see you guys,” she said. “You can be a big help to me tomorrow.”
Limpy was pretty sure he understood. “Yes,” he was pretty sure she'd said, “I can definitely help you apply to be a mascot.”
So, unlike Goliath, he wasn't at all worried when she picked them both up and put them in her sports bag.
“Y um,” said Goliath, “shoes.”
Limpy sighed.
He took a deep breath and tried to explain to Goliath that when a person has let you spend the night in her bath at the Games village, and shared her mushrooms on toast with you, and let you sit up late watching telly with her, and is now taking you in her bag to meet the Games Mascot Committee, it's pretty ungrateful to eat her shoes.
Goliath spat out a lace and thought about this.
“You're right,” he said after a bit. “I'll eat her socks.”
Limpy was about to snatch the sock from him when the bag tilted violently and they both went sprawling into a damp towel.
From the way the bag was moving, Limpy guessed the girl was carrying them up some steps.
The Games Mascot Committee is probably soimportant, he thought, they have their meetings up on a roof where snakes can't get them.
He'd seen the committee on telly the night before. They'd certainly looked important, sitting behind a long table showing off kookaburra pencil cases and echidna bath mats and platypus car-seat covers to a big crowd of people with cameras and notebooks.
Limpy felt his warts tingling with excitement. He hoped when he met the committee his mouth didn't get so dry with nervousness that his mucus dried up. Mum always reckoned a cane toad didn't look his best unless he had a bit of mucus on his lips.
Suddenly Limpy heard the muffled sound of applause and the chatter of human voices and the clicking of cameras.
He felt the girl unzip the bag.
Stack me, he thought. She must be going to introduce me to the Mascot Committee in front of the people with the cameras and notebooks.
Limpy hurriedly practiced his smile. He needed one that would win the hearts of humans everywhere. It wasn't easy in a dark bag without a swamp to check your reflection in.
Then suddenly the bag wasn't dark anymore. The girl had opened it and was reaching in. Heart thumping, Limpy pushed himself toward her groping hand.
But her hand slid past him and grabbed Goliath.
“Uh?” grunted Goliath, spitting out a mouthful of towel.
Limpy watched in horror as the girl lifted Goliath out of the bag. Through the open zip he could see lights on tall poles and human faces gawking. On a stage the girl held Goliath close to her cheek and smiled sweetly at the cameras.
Please, Limpy begged Goliath silently. Don't blow it. Don't attack anyone with a stick. Not today.
Limpy's view out of the bag was suddenly blocked by a human body. Limpy stood on tiptoe and saw it was the bloke in the suit with the clipboard. He was looking cross, as usual, and trying to grab Goliath from the girl.
He and the girl
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