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Toad Heaven by Morris Gleitzman
Limpy stuck his head out of the grass and peered up and down the highway. He felt his crook leg twitching and his warts tingling like they always did when he was excited.
All clear. No headlights speeding out of the darkness. No trucks, cars, buses, or caravans thundering down the highway. No humans on wheels looking for cane toads to squash.
“Let’s do it.” Said Limpy.
“Do what?” said Goliath.
Limpy sighed. He told himself to stay calm. He told himself not to even think about whacking Goliath round the head with a lump of possum poo.
“Goliath,” said Limpy, “try to concentrate.”
“I ain’t had any dinner yet,” grumbled Goliath.
“I’m so hungry I could eat a human’s hairbrush.”
Limpy gripped his cousin's big arms.
"We've got a plan, remember?" said Limpy. "If it works, it'll improve the lives of cane toads everywhere."
"What?" sneered a nearby bull ant. "Even the ones that are already flat?"
Limpy ignored the bull ant.
In the glow from the railway-crossing light, he saw that Goliath was frowning.
"This plan," said Goliath. "I still don't get it."
"Do exactly what I told you," said Limpy, "and you will."
Goliath nodded uncertainly.
"It'll never work," sneered the bull ant. "You cane toads are losers."
Limpy didn't eat the bull ant. What he and Goliath were about to do was too important to waste time having a snack.
"Good luck, Goliath," said Limpy.
His cousin didn't reply. Limpy could see that a frown was still creasing Goliath's big warty face.
Poor thing, thought Limpy. Probably as tense as me. Or else he's got a stink beetle stuck in his throat.