was not very difficult, because Carlos was quite tall for his age. Also, Stanley was only half an inch thick.
Stanley had been flat ever since the enormous bulletin board over his bed fell on him one night while he was sleeping. Sometimes he found being flat no fun at all. People had a habit of sitting on him on the bus. But there were good things about being flat, too. Stanley could slide under doors. He could travel inexpensively through the mail. And he could be a very good bullfighter’s cape whenever Carlos came over to play.
Arthur charged down the hall, heading straight for them. At the very last moment, Carlos swung Stanley upwards. Arthur passed below as Stanley’s toes brushed the ceiling.
‘¡Olé! ’ Carlos and Stanley cried triumphantly. They turned to face their opponent.
Arthur narrowed his eyes and slowly backed up to the other end of the hall.
Stanley knew to take his brother very seriously when Arthur was mad. After all, it wasn’t always easy for Arthur, having a brother who was flat and could do so many unusual things. Plus, Stanley was dressed all in red, which Carlos said made bulls angry.
With a roar, Arthur rushed towards them. He was the fastest bull Stanley had ever seen in their house. Carlos tightened his grip on Stanley’s hands.
Stanley took a deep breath and –
‘BOYS!!’ a voice bellowed right behind them as Carlos swept Stanley through the air.
It was Mr Lambchop! Stanley was about to swing right into him!
Stanley pointed his toes as hard as he could. They skidded against the ceiling, bringing him to a stop.
The good news was that Stanley Lambchop had not crashed into his father. The bad news was that he was now upside down and face-to-face with him.
‘Haven’t I already told you, no horsing around?!’ Mr Lambchop said.
‘But we weren’t playing horses, Dad!’ protested Arthur.
Mrs Lambchop appeared from the kitchen. ‘Arthur is right, dear,’ she said. ‘One shouldn’t call it horseplay when they were playing bullfight.’ Stanley’s parents were very much in favour of proper speech whenever possible.
‘My cousin Carmen del Junco is a famous matador in Mexico,’ Carlos admitted. ‘It is in my blood.’
‘Speaking of Mexico,’ Mrs Lambchop said, smiling, ‘guess what’s for breakfast.’
Everyone followed her into the kitchen.
‘What is it?’ Stanley asked, poking the yellow mound on his plate with a fork. It certainly smelled good.
‘Why, it’s huevos rancheros !’ said Mrs Lambchop.
‘Looks more like eggs,’ said Arthur.
Carlos chuckled. ‘Huevos means “eggs” in Spanish. Huevos rancheros is a special dish with eggs on top of a tortilla.’ He elbowed Stanley. ‘You will like the tortilla, amigo. It is flat like you!’
Everybody dug in.
‘Ish ish delishish!’ exclaimed Arthur.
‘Please don’t talk with your mouth full, Arthur,’ Mr Lambchop said. ‘Harriet, you’ve outdone yourself. These huevos rancheros are delicious.’
Stanley couldn’t agree more, so he shoveled another forkful into his mouth.
‘I made it with the seasoning that Carlos’s mother gave me,’ Mrs Lambchop explained proudly. For her birthday, Mrs Lambchop had a party with a cooking theme. Stanley had given her a spatula, although he was almost injured when Arthur tried to flip him with it.
‘Ah,’ Carlos said, nodding. ‘My great grandmother’s secret ingredient!’
‘Secret ingredient?’ Stanley’s mother leaned forwards. ‘What could it be?’
‘I cannot say,’ said Carlos.
‘We promise we won’t tell anyone,’ pleaded Mrs Lambchop.
‘I cannot tell you, Señora Lambchop, because I do not know.’ Carlos shrugged. ‘Nobody knows. My great grandmother guards her secret closely. There are spies trying to steal it from her always! It is sad, because when she dies, the secret will go with her.’
‘How old is she?’ asked Arthur.
‘She is a hundred and three,’ said Carlos, with a frown.
‘That’s quite young for a person over a hundred,’ said Mr Lambchop.
‘Carlos,’ said Mrs Lambchop, ‘I love cooking. And this – this is the most wonderful flavour I have ever known. I would be honoured to carry on the tradition of your great grandmother’s secret ingredient!’
‘But how?’ said Carlos.
‘I’ll call her up,’ said Mrs Lambchop.
Carlos shook his head. ‘My great grandmother does not have a telephone. She lives in a very remote part of Mexico.’
‘I’ll write her a letter!’ Mrs Lambchop said.
‘She would never send her secret in the mail,’ said Carlos.
Stanley’s mother thought for a long moment. Then, very quietly, she said, ‘We’ll send a messenger.’
‘I’m your man!’ Arthur leaped to his feet. He was always ready for an adventure.
But Mrs Lambchop was not looking at Arthur. ‘Stanley, those red sweatpants look comfortable enough,’ she said. ‘I’ll fold you some tortillas for the trip. We have to get you in the mail!’
‘Aw!’ pouted Arthur.
‘You’re sending me to Mexico?’ Stanley gasped. His mother usually seemed more concerned about his health and safety.
‘Stanley Lambchop, you tasted the secret ingredient,’ said Mrs Lambchop. ‘We cannot let that secret die.’
‘Your mother is right, Stanley,’ Mr Lambchop said. ‘You have travelled all over the world. You explored the pyramids of Egypt.’
‘You practised martial arts in Japan,’ Mrs Lambchop chimed in.
‘You flew on arctic winds to northern Canada,’ grumbled Arthur. ‘That was another trip I missed.’
‘Why, Mexico is just south of the United States of America,’ said Mrs Lambchop. ‘That makes it practically next door!’
Конец
