Flat Stanley - Jeff Brown [1]
“Shame!”
The policemen apologized. “We didn’t get it, lady,” they said. “We have been hasty. We see that now.”
“People should think twice before making rude remarks,” said Mrs. Lambchop. “And then not make them at all.”
The policemen realized that was a good rule and said they would try to remember it.
One day Stanley got a letter from his friend Thomas Anthony Jeffrey, whose family had moved recently to California. A school vacation was about to begin, and Stanley was invited to spend it with the Jeffreys.
“Oh, boy!” Stanley said. “I would love to go!”
Mr. Lambchop sighed. “A round-trip train or airplane ticket to California is very expensive,” he said. “I will have to think of some cheaper way.”
When Mr. Lambchop came home from the office that evening, he brought with him an enormous brown-paper envelope.
“Now then, Stanley,” he said. “Try this for size.”
The envelope fit Stanley very well. There was even room left over, Mrs. Lambchop discovered, for an egg-salad sandwich made with thin bread, and a toothbrush case filled with milk.
They had to put a great many stamps on the envelope to pay for both airmail and insurance, but it was still much less expensive than a train or airplane ticket to California.
The next day Mr. and Mrs. Lambchop slid Stanley into his envelope, along with the egg-salad sandwich and the toothbrush case full of milk, and mailed him from the box on the corner. The envelope had to be folded to fit through the slot, but Stanley was a limber boy, and inside the box he straightened right up again.
Mrs. Lambchop was nervous because Stanley had never been away from home alone before. She rapped on the box.
“Can you hear me, dear?” she called. “Are you all right?”
Stanley’s voice came quite clearly. “I’m fine. Can I eat my sandwich now?”
“Wait an hour. And try not to get overheated, dear,” Mrs. Lambchop said. Then she and Mr. Lambchop cried out, “Good-bye, good-bye!” and went home.
Stanley had a fine time in California. When the visit was over, the Jeffreys returned him in a beautiful white envelope they had made themselves. It had red-and-blue markings to show that it was airmail, and Thomas Jeffrey had lettered it “Valuable” and “Fragile” and “This End Up” on both sides.
Back home Stanley told his family that he had been handled so carefully he never felt a single bump. Mr. Lambchop said it proved that jet planes were wonderful, and so was the Postal Service, and that this was a great age in which to live.
Stanley thought so too.
3
Stanley the Kite
Mr. Lambchop had always liked to take the boys out with him on Sunday afternoons, to a museum or roller-skating in the park, but it was difficult when they were crossing streets or moving about in crowds. Stanley and Arthur would often be jostled from his side and Mr. Lambchop worried about speeding taxis or that hurrying people might accidentally knock them down.
It was easier after Stanley got flat.
Mr. Lambchop discovered that he could roll Stanley up without hurting him at all. He would tie a piece of string around Stanley to keep him from unrolling and make a little loop in the string for himself. It was as simple as carrying a parcel, and he could hold on to Arthur with the other hand.
Stanley did not mind being carried because he had never much liked to walk. Arthur didn’t like to walk either, but he had to. It made him mad.
One Sunday afternoon, in the street, they met Ralph Jones, an old college friend of Mr. Lambchop’s.
“Well, George, I see you have bought some wallpaper,” Mr. Jones said. “Going to decorate your house, I suppose?”
“Wallpaper?” said Mr. Lambchop. “Oh, no. This is my son Stanley.”
He undid the string and Stanley unrolled.
“How do you do?” Stanley said.
“Nice to meet you, young feller,” the man said. “George,” he said to Mr. Lambchop, “that boy is flat.”
“Smart, too,” Mr. Lambchop said. “Stanley is third from the top in his class at school.”
“Phooey!” said Arthur.
“This is my younger son, Arthur,” Mr. Lambchop said. “And he will apologize for his rudeness.”
Arthur could