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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 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 any more.’

‘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, DC,’ 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 programme, but someone out there doesn’t realise 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 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.’

Flat Stanley in Space

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