What did it matter now if he was arrested and locked up for impersonating a Games mascot and making a stadium full of humans feel sick? Now that I know the truth, thought Limpy miserably, I might as well rot in a human jail for all the good I can do anyone. Then he saw what was happening to Goliath. Goliath was hopping from side to side on the rock, dodging blows from the kookaburra mascot, who'd taken off his kookaburra head and was trying to bash Goliath with the big plastic beak. The rock, which was also made of plastic, was splintering under the blows. Goliath's poison glands were bulging with fury. “No,” Limpy yelled at Goliath. “Don't.” He threw himself at his cousin and they both tumbled off the rock and crashed down onto the running track. Goliath yelped with surprise and pain. “What are you doing?” he protested. “You're supposed to be on my side.” “The security guards have got guns,” panted Limpy. “They'll use them if you fire first.” Goliath sighed. “Spoilsport!”
