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Toad Rage

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Overview

Limpy's family reckons humans don't hate cane toads, but Limpy knows otherwise. He's spotted the signs: the cross looks, the unkind comments, the way they squash cane toads with their cars. Limpy is desperate to save his species from ending up as pancakes. Somehow he must make humans see how fabulous cane toads really are. Risking everything, he sets off on a wart-tinglingly dangerous and daring journey to . . . the Olympics?

This is the epic story of a slightly squashed young cane toad's quest for the truth.

Editorial Reviews

"Never trust a human." Those are the last words of cane toad Limpy's Uncle Preston, "the ones he'd said just before he was flattened by a funeral procession," in Australian writer Gleitzman's (Two Weeks with the Queen) hilarious dark comedy. In fact Limpy has watched countless relatives get run over by highway traffic and, out of deference, rolls up their dried bodies, takes them home and stockpiles them ("Well, don't just leave him lying around in your room," says Limpy's Mum on one such occasion. "That room's a pigsty. I'm tired of tidying up dead relatives in there"). Not content to accept his parents' explanations for his family's advanced mortality rate (all the really nutritious flies hang out near the highway), Limpy is convinced that humans hate cane toads, and he sets off on a farflung journey to find a human being and determine the cause of their enmity. Despite his dearly departed uncle's admonition, Limpy discovers that humans might not all be so bad, as he falls in with a female athlete who, he believes, will help him apply to become an Olympic Games mascot. While the book was originally published for the Sydney Olympics in 2000, and some of the humor has to do with native Aussie animals' hurt feelings at being rejected as mascots, most of the comedy should travel well. Saucy fun from start to finish. Ages 8-12. (Apr.) Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.

Author Information

Bio of Morris Gleitzman

Morris Gleitzman was born in 1953 in Sleaford, Lincolnshire, England. He and his family emigrated to Australia in 1969. Morris began his writing career as a screenwriter, and wrote his first children's novel in 1985. Before he began to write full time, he held various jobs as a paperboy, bottle-shop shelf-stacker, department store Santa Claus, frozen chicken defroster, fashion-design assistant and sugar-mill employee. In between, he managed to gain a degree in Professional Writing at the Canberra College of Advanced Education. Later he became sole writer for three award-winning and top-rating seasons with the TV comedy series The Norman Gunston Show. Gleitzman has written a number of feature film and television movie screenplays, including The Other Facts of Life and Second Childhood, both produced by The Australian Children's Television Foundation. The Other Facts of Life won the 1985 AWGIE Award for the Best Original Children's Film Script. Gleitzman has also written live stage material for Rolf Harris, Pamela Stephenson and the Governor General of Australia. Morris is also well known through his semi-autobiographical columns in The Age and Sydney Morning Herald magazine, Good Weekend, from which he has recently retired after nine years. Collections of his columns have been published by Pan Macmillan in Just Looking and Gleitzman on Saturday, and by Penguin in Self Helpless. One of his most successful books for young people is Two Weeks with the Queen, an international bestseller which was also adapted into a play by Mary Morris. The play had many successful seasons in Australia and was produced at the National Theatre in London in 1995, as well as in South Africa, Canada, Japan and the USA. His other books have been either shortlisted for, or have won numerous children's book prizes around the country. These include The Other Facts of Life, Second Childhood, Misery Guts, Worry Warts, Puppy Fat, Blabber Mouth, Sticky Beak, Belly Flop, Water W ings, Bumface, Gift Of The Gab, Toad Rage, Wicked! and Deadly!, two six-part novels written in collaboration with Paul Jennings, Adults Only, Toad Heaven, Boy Overboard, Teacher's Pet, and his latest book, Toad Away. Gleitzman's children's books have been published in the UK, the USA, Germany, Italy, Japan, France, Spain, Portugal, Holland, Sweden and Finland. Gleitzman himself was voted Favourite Australian Author for 1999 in the Dymocks Booksellers Children's Choice Awards. Bumface was voted Second Most Popular Children's Book Of All Time in the 1999 Angus & Robertson National Readers' Survey. 030

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Additional Info

Imprint

Yearling

Filesize

1.90 MB

Number of Pages

176

eBook ISBN

9780307548153

Awards

  • Nene Award
  • Wyoming Indian Paintbrush Book Award

Excerpt from: Toad Rage by Morris Gleitzman

Chapter 1 “Uncle Bart,” said Limpy. “Why do humans hate us?” Uncle Bart looked down at Limpy and smiled fondly. “Stack me, Limpy,” he chuckled, “you are an idiot.” Limpy felt his warts prickle with indignation as Uncle Bart hopped onto the road after a bull ant. No wonder I’ve never heard any other cane toad ask that question, thought Limpy, if that’s the reply you get. Limpy was glad the grass at the edge of the highway was taller than he was. At least the millions of insects flying around the railway crossing light couldn’t see who Uncle Bart was calling an idiot. “Humans don’t hate us,” Uncle Bart was saying, his mouth full of bull ant and grasshopper. “What are you on about? Stack me, some of the dopey ideas you youngsters come up with…” Limpy waited patiently for Uncle Bart to finish. Uncle Bart was his fattest uncle, and his bossiest. When Uncle Bart had a point to make, he liked to keep on making it until you gave in and looked convinced. Tonight, though, Limpy didn’t give in. He didn’t have to. When Uncle Bart was getting his mucus in a knot about how humans definitely didn’t hate cane toads, a truck came roaring round the corner in a blaze of lights, straightened up, rumbled through the railway crossing, swerved across the road straight at Uncle Bart, and drove over him. Limpy trembled in the grass while the truck thundered past in a cloud of diesel fumes and flying grit. Then he hopped onto the road and looked down at what was left of Uncle Bart. The light overhead was very bright because it had a whole railway crossing to illuminate, and Limpy was able to see very clearly that Uncle Bart wasn’t his fattest uncle anymore. Flattest, more like, he thought sadly. “See,” he said quietly to Uncle Bart. “That’s what I’m on about.” “Har har har,” chortled a nearby grasshopper. “Your uncle’s a place mat. Serves him right.” Limpy ignored the grasshopper and turned to watch the truck speeding away into the darkness. From the movement of its taillights he could tell it was weaving from side to side. Each time it weaved, he heard the distant “pop” of another relative being run over. “Yay,” shouted the grasshopper. “More place mats.” Limpy sighed. He decided not to eat the grasshopper. Mum was always warning him he’d get a bellyache if he ate when he was upset or angry. To take his mind off Uncle Bart, Limpy crossed the road to have a look at Uncle Roly. Uncle Roly was extremely flat too, but at least he was smiling. Which is what you’d expect, thought Limpy sadly, from your kindest uncle, even when he has been dead for two nights. Limpy reached forward and gently prodded Uncle Roly. He was dry and stiff. The hot Queensland sun had done its job. Limpy remembered how Uncle Roly had never been dry and stiff when he was alive. He’d always had a warm smile for everyone, even the family of holidaymakers two evenings ago who’d purposely aimed their car straight for him down the wrong side of the road. “Oh, Uncle Roly,” whispered Limpy. “Couldn’t you see the way they were looking at you?” Limpy shuddered as he remembered the scary expressions on the holidaymakers’ faces. It was exactly the same look of hatred that had been on the face of the truck driver who’d tried to kill Limpy when he was little. I was lucky, thought Limpy sadly. When it happened to me, I’d only