Stanley and the Magic Lamp - Jeff Brown [5]
She posed graciously for all the tourists and signed dozens of autographs. In the park she was recognized again, and had to do more posing and signing.
It was now midmorning, and all the park’s tennis courts were occupied, but the Lambchops’ disappointment lessened when they saw a crowd gathered by one court and learned that Tom McRude, the world’s best tennis player, was about to lecture and demonstrate his strokes. Tom McRude was known for his terrible temper and bad manners, but the Lambchops were eager to see him nevertheless. With Prince Haraz, they squeezed close to the court, next to the TV-news cameras covering the event.
“None of you can ever be a great tennis player like me,” Tom McRude was saying. “But at least you can have the thrill of seeing me.”
A little old lady in the crowd gave a tiny sneeze, and he glared at her. “What’s the matter with you, granny?”
The old lady burst into tears, and friends led her away.
“What a mean fellow!” Prince Haraz whispered to Stanley.
“I can’t stand old sneezing people!” said Tom McRude. “Okay, now I’ll show how I hit my great forehand! First—”
“Hold it, Tom!” called the TV-news director. “We’ve just spotted Harriet Lambchop here. What a break! Maybe she’ll say a few words for our cameras!”
Even Tom McRude was impressed. “The Harriet Lambchop? Wow!”
“Swing those cameras this way, fellows!” The director ran over to Mrs. Lambchop, holding out a microphone.
“Wonderful to see you!” he said. “Everybody wants to know your views. Favorite color? What about the foreign situation? Do you sleep in pajamas or a nightgown?”
“Isn’t that rather personal?” asked Mr. Lambchop.
“George, please….” Mrs. Lambchop spoke into the microphone. “Thank you all for your kind welcome,” she said. “I would just like to say that I’m glad my fans are having such a lovely day in this delightful park.”
The crowd cheered and waved, and Mrs. Lambchop waved back and blew kisses. Jealous of the attention she was getting, Tom McRude whacked a tennis ball over the fence behind him.
Noticing, Mrs. Lambchop spoke again into the microphone. “And now, let us give this great champion our attention!”
“Yeah!” growled Tom McRude. When the TV cameras had swung back to him, he went on. “I need a volunteer, so that I can demonstrate how terrible most players are compared to me!”
Mr. Lambchop thought it would be thrilling to share a court with a champion. Signaling with his racket, he stepped forward.
Tom McRude handed him some balls. “Okay, try a serve.”
Mr. Lambchop prepared to serve.
“He’s got his feet wrong!” Tom McRude shouted. “And his grip is wrong! Everything is wrong!”
This made Mr. Lambchop so nervous that he served two balls into the net instead of over it.
“Terrible! Terrible! Watch how I do it,” said Tom McRude, running to the far side of the court. From there he served five balls, so hard and fast that Mr. Lambchop missed the first four entirely. The fifth one knocked the racket out of his hand.
“Ha, ha!” laughed Tom McRude. “Now let’s see you run!”
He began hitting whizzing forehands and backhands at sharp angles across the court, making Mr. Lambchop look foolish as he raced back and forth, getting very red in the face and missing practically every shot.
The other Lambchops grew angry, as did Prince Haraz. “This need not continue, you know,” he whispered to Stanley.
Just then, Mr. Lambchop came skidding to a halt before them, banging his knee with his racket as he missed yet another of the champion’s powerful shots.
“Ha, ha! This is how I give lessons!” shouted Tom McRude.
Mr. Lambchop looked at Stanley, then at Prince Haraz. “Okay,” Stanley said, and the genie smiled a little smile.
“Thank you,” said Mr. Lambchop. Returning to the court, he called out to the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, I will try my serve again!”
Across the net, Tom McRude gave a nasty laugh and slashed his big racket through the air.
Mr. Lambchop served a ball, not into the net this time, but fast as a bullet right where it was supposed to go. Tom McRude’s mouth fell open as the