by jeff brown
“Yes, dear.” Mr. Lambchop smoothed down wallpaper. “Ordinary. The very best sort of day.”
In the living room, Stanley Lambchop and his younger brother, Arthur, were watching a Tom Toad cartoon on TV. The sporty Toad was water-skiing and fell off, making a great splash. Arthur laughed so hard he didn’t hear the telephone, but Stanley answered it.
“Lambchop residence?” said the caller. “The President of the United States speaking. Who’s this?”
Stanley smiled. “The King of France.”
“They don’t have kings in France. Not anymore.”
“Excuse me, but I’m too busy for jokes.” Stanley kept his eyes on the TV. “My brother and I are watching the Tom Toad Show”
“Well, you keep watching, young fellow!” The caller hung up, just as Mr. and Mrs. Lambchop came in to watch the rest of the show.
“Hey, guess what?” Stanley said. “Hay is for horses,” said Mrs. Lambchop, mindful always of careful speech. “Who called, dear?”
Stanley laughed. “The President of the United States!”
Arthur laughed too. “Stanley said he was the King of France!”
Tom Toad vanished suddenly from the TV screen, and an American flag appeared. “We bring you a special message from the White House in Washington, D.C.,” said the deep voice of an announcer. “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States!”
The screen showed the President, looking very serious, behind his desk.
“My fellow Americans,” the President said. “I am sorry to interrupt this program, but someone out there doesn’t realize that I am a very busy man who can’t waste time joking on the telephone. I hope the particular person I am talking to—and I do not mean the King of France!—will remember that. Thank you. Now here’s the Toad show again.”
Tom Toad, still water-skiing, came back on the TV.
“Stanley!” exclaimed Mrs. Lambchop. “The King of France indeed!”
“Gosh!” Arthur said. “Will Stanley get put in jail?”
“There is no law against being a telephone smarty,” Mr. Lambchop said. “Perhaps there should be.”
The telephone rang, and he answered it. “George Lambchop here.”
“Good!” 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 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, D.C.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jeff Brown created the beloved character of Flat Stanley as a bedtime story for his two sons. He has written other outrageous books about the Lambchop family, including Flat Stanley, Stanley and the Magic Lamp, Invisible Stanley, Stanley’s Christmas Adventure, Stanley in Space, and Stanley, Flat Again! You can learn more about Jeff Brown and Flat Stanley at www.flatstanleybooks.com.
Macky Pamintuan is an accomplished illustrator. He lives in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, with his wife and dog.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.
OTHER WORKS
DON’T MISS ANY OF THESE
OUTRAGEOUS STORIES:
Flat Stanley: His Original Adventure!
Stanley and the Magic Lamp
Stanley in Space
Invisible Stanley
Stanley’s Christmas Adventure
Stanley, Flat Again!
AND CATCH FLAT STANLEY’S
WORLDWIDE ADVENTURES:
The Mount Rushmore Calamity
The Great Egyptian Grave Robbery
The Japanese Ninja Surprise
COPYRIGHT
Invisible Stanley
Text copyright © 1996 by Jeff Brown
Illustrations by Macky Pamintuan, copyright © 2009 by HarperCollins Publishers.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition © JULY 2010 ISBN: 978-0-062-03382-6
www.harpercollinschildrens.com
Library of Congress catalog card number: 2009927742
ISBN 978-0-06-009792-9
09 10 11 12 13 LP/CW 30 29 28 27 26 25 24 23 22 21
First paperback edition, 2003
Reillustrated edition, 2009
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ABOUT THE PUBLISHER
Australia
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United States
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Stanley in Space
by Jeff Brown
Pictures by Macky Pamintuan
DEDICATION
For Sidney Urquhart,
the godmother to whom Flat Stanley owes so much
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue
1. The Call
2. Washington
3. Taking Off
4. In Space
5. The Tyrrans
6. TyrraVille
7. President Ot’s Story
8. Stanley’s Good Idea
9. The Weighing
10. Heading Home
11. Earth Again
About the Author and Illustrator
Other Works
Credits
Copyright
Back Ad
About the Publisher
PROLOGUE
“Will you meet with us? Does anyone hear?”
From the great farness of space, from farther than any planet or star that has ever been mentioned in books, the questions came.
Again and again.
“Will you meet with us? Does anyone hear?”
The Call
It was Saturday morning, and Mr. and Mrs. Lambchop were putting up wallpaper in the kitchen.
“Isn’t this nice, George?” said Mrs. Lambchop, stirring paste. “No excitement. A perfectly usual day.”
Mr. Lambchop knew just what she meant. Excitement was often troublesome. The flatness of their son Stanley, for example, after his big bulletin board settled on him overnight. Exciting, but worrying too, till Stanley got round again. And that genie visiting, granting wishes. Oh, very exciting! But all the wishes had to be unwished before the genie returned to the lamp from which he sprung.
“Yes, dear.” Mr. Lambchop smo
othed down wallpaper. “Ordinary. The very best sort of day.”
In the living room, Stanley Lambchop and his younger brother, Arthur, were watching a Tom Toad cartoon on TV. The sporty Toad was water-skiing and fell off, making a great splash. Arthur laughed so hard he didn’t hear the telephone, but Stanley answered it.
“Lambchop residence?” said the caller. “The President of the United States speaking. Who’s this?”
Stanley smiled. “The King of France.”
“They don’t have kings in France. Not anymore.”
“Excuse me, but I’m too busy for jokes.” Stanley kept his eyes on the TV. “My brother and I are watching the Tom Toad Show.”
“Well, you keep watching, young fellow!” The caller hung up, just as Mr. and Mrs. Lambchop came in to watch the rest of the show.
“Hey, guess what?” Stanley said.
“Hay is for horses,” said Mrs. Lambchop, mindful always of careful speech. “Who called, dear?”
Stanley laughed. “The President of the United States!”
Arthur laughed too. “Stanley said he was the King of France!”
Tom Toad vanished suddenly from the TV screen, and an American flag appeared. “We bring you a special message from the White House in Washington, D.C.,” said the deep voice of an announcer. “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States!”
The screen showed the President, looking very serious, behind his desk.
“My fellow Americans,” the President said. “I am sorry to interrupt this program, but someone out there doesn’t realize that I am a very busy man who can’t waste time joking on the telephone. I hope the particular person I am talking to—and I do not mean the King of France!—will remember that. Thank you. Now here’s the Toad show again.”
Tom Toad, still water-skiing, came back on the TV.
“Stanley!” exclaimed Mrs. Lambchop. “The King of France indeed!”
“Gosh!” Arthur said. “Will Stanley get put in jail?”
“There is no law against being a telephone smarty,” Mr. Lambchop said. “Perhaps there should be.”
The telephone rang, and he answered it. “George Lambchop here.”
“Good!” 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 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, D.C.”
Mr. Lambchop gasped. “Private plane? Washington? All of us?”
“The whole family.” The President chuckled. “Including the King of France.”
Washington
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 recognized 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 who’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 colored 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 skimping 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 Center, and you’re on your way!”
Taking Off
“Ten!” said the voice of Mission Control.
The countdown had begun. When it reached “zero,” Chief Pilot Stanley Lambchop would press the “Start” button, and the Star Scout would blast off for Tyrra.
“Nine!”
Strapped into their seats, the Lambchops held their breaths, each thinking very different thoughts.
Stanley was wondering if the Tyrrans would mind that Earth had sent just an ordinary family. Suppose they were big
stuck-ups and expected a general or a TV star, or even the President? Suppose—“Eight!” said Control, and Stanley fixed his eyes on the panel before him.
Mr. Lambchop was thinking that serving one’s country was noble, but this was a bit much. How did these things happen? Off to an unknown planet, the entire family! Other families didn’t have a son become flat. Other families didn’t find genies in the house. Other—Oh, well! Mr. Lambchop sighed.
“Seven!” said Control.
Mrs. Lambchop thought that Mr. Lambchop seemed fretful. But why, now that the Star Scout looked so nice? Thanks to her, in fact. “They may call it a spaceship,” she had said when she first saw it, “but where’s the space? Just one room! And all gray …? Drab, I say!” Much of the training at the Space Center, however, was physical, and Mrs. Lambchop, who jogged and exercised regularly, quickly passed the tests required. In the days that followed, while the others were being made fit, she used her free time to make the Star Scout more like home. Only so much weight was permitted, but she managed a bathroom scale for the shower alcove and a plastic curtain, pretty shades for the portholes, a venetian blind for the Magnifying Exploration Window, and posters of Mexico and France.
“Six! … Five! … Four! … Three! …”
Mrs. Lambchop made sure her purse was snug beneath her seat.
Arthur, by nature lazy, was thinking that he was glad to be done with all the jogging, jumping, climbing ladders, and scaling walls. When he was super-strong, thanks to the genie, it would have been easy. But for just plain Arthur Lambchop, he thought, it was tiring.