Too late! I couldn't stop Herman. I could only watch as wave upon wave of cockroaches raced from that sack onto the grass.
The mice and other rodent players squealed. They milled in confusion. The lizards on the team looked hungrily at the brown wave.
Herman would snatch the mascot while everyone was busy with the cockroaches. But not if I could help it.
My stomach rumbled like a volcano. And then it hit me.
Lunchtime!
I shot onto the field and dodged between the players. I grabbed handful after handful of delicious cockroaches. Crunch, crunch! I slowed down only to spit out the wings and feet.
I munched those bugs like it was the final event in the Lunchtime Olympics.
It wasn't a pretty sight.
I got so involved with my long-delayed lunch, I forgot about the last part of Herman's plan. The mascot! I searched for the Gila monster among the crowd of feasting lizards, scurrying cockroaches, and squeaking rodents.
Even the spectators had joined the free-for-all on the field. It was a madhouse. I staggered past a skink and a newt playing tug-of-war with a cockroach.
On the sidelines, the cheerleaders were continuing their routine. They tossed the other team's mascot—the Big Baboo—up into the air, then stomped on it. The girls cheered happily.
I shook my head. I'd hate to make a cheerleader mad at me.
"I'll get you, Chester Gecko!" shouted Ms. Ghck, as a tide of hefty football players trompled over her. I turned, scanning the crowd for a no-good Gila monster.
Finally I spotted him.
Herman had tucked the Golden Gopher statue under his arm like a football. He was running for the end zone and freedom!
I was too full to run. But I couldn't let him escape.
I staggered and tripped. Oof! I hit the ground.
Herman was getting away.
In desperation, I rolled and zapped out my tongue. It stuck to the goalpost at ankle height—right in Herman's path.
Too late. He saw me. His eyes went wide.
Ba-tonk!
Herman tripped on my tongue and went down like mowed grass. The Golden Gopher flew from his hands and landed—whump!— right on my stomach.
Normally it would've hurt. But I was so stuffed, I couldn't feel a thing. I could barely move.
Coach Stroganoff parted the tide of football players and spectators. He stood over me.
"Nice catch, Gecko!" he said. "I saw the whole thing."
He grabbed the statue in one hand and hoisted Herman by the tail with the other. Coach Stroganoff slung the Gila monster over his back.
"Mister, you're in deep doo-doo," he said to Herman. The Gila monster just groaned. Coach Stroganoff took a couple of steps, then turned back to me.
"You know, Gecko, we could use someone like you on our football team. Let me know when you reach sixth grade."
I grunted. My tongue felt like the elastic on your oldest pair of underwear.
From my comfortable spot on the grass, I watched Coach Stroganoff drag Herman away. Maybe the Gila monster would beat my detention record. Maybe they'd lock him up and throw away the key.
Right then, I didn't care. I had a full belly, and a case that was almost wrapped up.
If that's not heaven, what is?