Stanley in Space

‘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, D.C..’

Mr Lambchop gasped. ‘Private plane? Washington? All of us?’

‘The whole family.’ The President chuckled. ‘Including the King of France.’

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