It was a quiet night in the village pub when the man fell in through the door.
Several patrons helped him to his feet and got him to a chair. He was in a bad way. He had blood on his hands, his face and his clothes. These were torn and he’d lost a sleeve from his jacket. It looked as though it had been ripped off. His eyes were bloodshot and he had bruises to his neck and face. He was given a stiff drink by the landlord, which he sipped with a shaky hand while the dozen or so drinkers gathered around. The man could hardly speak at first, but finally gained enough breath to explain that he’d come from the next village, where there had been a calamitous situation. It had unfolded over just a few hours. He described how all of the villagers were dead and told them that he was the sole survivor. They brought him another shot and asked him to explain what had happened.
After squeezing his eyes closed for several seconds, he said, “It started with the cane toads. I don’t have to tell you that they come through in swarms from time to time. I’m sure you’ve all seen that?”
There was a general nodding of heads.
“This was different. They can spit, you know that too. Within the first hour there was a plague of them. They got everywhere! Then the spitting began. No ordinary spit, mind you. Green it was, and stung when it hit your skin. So I was told. I don’t know why, but I never had to experience it myself. I was in a pretty good hiding place right up to the end. Anyway, then people started fighting; fighting one another for no good reason. Only another hour when by before they became so wild that they were killing each other! It was unbelievable! Some folks just suicided right there on the street.” He wiped tears away. “There were only a few blokes left fighting and slugging it out in the street. They had knifes, guns, axes, machetes, anything they could get their hands on. That’s when I made a break for it.”
He stopped to drain his glass.
“Unfortunately, they saw me. About three or four of them all jumped on me. It was horrible. A couple of them I recognised; known them all my life. I fought back. The poison, or whatever it was, had also weakened them and I managed to fight them off. I started running as fast as I could. It was then that I realised that there didn’t seem to be any toads around. They must have all moved on. I’m just so lucky to be alive!”
He buried his head in his hands.
The landlord, apparently quite sober, and more than a little aware of the fact that he’d been giving the man free drinks, spoke up. “I’ve got to say that was just about the silliest thing I’ve ever heard! If they ever make a B grade horror movie of it and I was offered a free ticket, I wouldn’t bother to go and see it.”
As he said that, the door creaked open and a particularly large and very ugly cane toad hopped in.
