Flat Stanley in Space. Jeff Brown
It was the President. ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you!’
‘Oh, my!’ Mr Lambchop said. ‘Please excuse –’
‘Hold on. You’re the fellow has the boy who was flat once, got his picture in the newspaper?’
‘My son Stanley, Mr President,’ Mr Lambchop said, to let the others know who was calling.
‘I had to be sure,’ said the President. ‘We have to get together, Lambchop! I’ll send my private plane right now, fetch you all here to Washington, DC.’
Mr Lambchop gasped. ‘Private plane? Washington? All of us?’
‘The whole family.’ The President chuckled. ‘Including the King of France.’
At the White House, in his famous Oval Office, the President shook hands with all the Lambchops.
‘Thanks for coming.’ He chuckled. ‘Bet you never thought when you woke up this morning that you’d get to meet me.’
‘Indeed not,’ Mr Lambchop said. ‘This is quite a surprise.’
‘Well, here’s another one,’ said the President. ‘The reason I asked you to come.’
He sat down behind his desk, serious now. ‘Tyrra! Never heard of it, right?’
The Lambchops all shook their heads.
‘Nobody ever heard of it. It’s a planet, up there somewhere. They sent a message, the first ever from outer space!’
The Lambchops were greatly interested. ‘Imagine!’ Mrs Lambchop exclaimed. ‘What did it say?’
‘Very friendly tone,’ the President said. ‘Peaceful, just checking around. Asked us to visit. Now, my plan –’
A side door of the Oval Office had opened suddenly to reveal a nicely-dressed lady wearing a crown. Mrs Lambchop recognised her at once as the Queen of England.
‘About the banquet, also the –’ the Queen began, and saw that the President was busy. ‘Ooops! We beg your pardon.’ She closed the door.
‘This place is a madhouse,’ the President said. ‘Visitors, fancy dinners, no end to it. Now, where –? Ah, yes! The Star Scout !’
He leaned forward.
‘That’s our new top-secret spaceship, just ready now! Send somebody up in the Star Scout, I thought, to meet with these Tyrrans. But who? Wouldn’t look peaceful to send soldiers, or even scientists. Then I thought: What could be more peaceful than just an ordinary American boy?’
The President smiled. ‘Why not Stanley Lambchop?’
‘Stanley?’ Mrs Lambchop gasped. ‘In a spaceship? To meet with an alien race?’
‘Oh, boy!’ said Stanley. ‘I would love to go!’
‘Me, too,’ said Arthur. ‘It’s not fair if –’
‘Arthur!’ Mr Lambchop drew in a deep breath. ‘Mr President, why Stanley ?’
‘It has to be someone that’s already had adventure experience,’ the President said. ‘Well, my Secret Service showed me a newspaper story about when Stanley was flat and caught two robbers. Robbers! That’s adventure!’
‘I’ve had them too!’ Arthur said. ‘A genie taught me to fly, and we had a Liophant, and –’
‘A what ?’
‘A Liophant,’ Arthur said. ‘Half lion, half elephant. They’re nice.’
‘Is that right? The Secret Service never –’
‘Mr President?’ Mrs Lambchop did not like to interrupt, but her concern was great.
‘Mr President?’ she said. ‘This mission: is it safe?’
‘My goodness, of course it’s safe!’ the President said. ‘We have taken great care, Mrs Lambchop. The Star Scout has all the latest scientific equipment. And it has been very carefully tested. First, we tried it on automatic pilot, with no passengers. It worked perfectly! Even then, ma’am, we were not satisfied. We sent the Star Scout up again, this time with our cleverest trained bird aboard. But hear for yourself.’ The President spoke into a little box on his desk. ‘Send in Dr Schwartz, please.’
A bearded man entered, wearing a white coat and carrying a birdcage with a cloth over it. Bowing, he removed the cloth to reveal a large, brightly-coloured parrot.
‘Thank you, Herman,’ the President said. ‘Dr Schwartz is our top space scientist,’ he told the Lambchops, ‘and this is Polly, the bird I spoke of. Polly, tell the folks here about your adventure into space.’
‘Piece of cake,’ said the parrot. ‘Terrific! Loved every minute of it!’
‘Thank you, Herman,’ the President said, and Dr Schwartz carried Polly away.
‘That was very reassuring, but it is out of the question for Stanley to go alone,’ Mrs Lambchop said. ‘However, we were planning a family vacation. Would it be possible, Mr President, for us all to go?’
‘Well, if you didn’t mind the crowding,’ the President said. ‘And skimped on baggage.’
‘Actually, we had in mind the seaside,’ Mr Lambchop said. ‘Or a tennis camp. But –’
The Queen of England looked in again. ‘May we ask if –’
‘Just a minute, for heaven’s sake!’ said the President.
‘We shall return anon.’ Looking peeved, the Queen went away.
Mr Lambchop had decided. ‘Mr President, the seaside will keep. We will go to Tyrra, sir.’
‘Wonderful!’ The President jumped up. ‘To the stars, Lambchops! Some training at the Space Centre, and you’re on your way!’
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