by jeff brown
Catch All Of Flat Stanley’s Worldwide Adventures:
The Mount Rushmore Calamity
The Great Egyptian Grave Robbery
The Japanese Ninja Surprise
The Intrepid Canadian Expedition
The Amazing Mexican Secret
The African Safari Discovery
The Flying Chinese Wonders
The Australian Boomerang Bonanza
The US Capital Commotion
AND DON’T MISS ANY OF THESE OUTRAGEOUS STORIES:
Flat Stanley: His Original Adventure!
Stanley and the Magic Lamp
Invisible Stanley
Stanley’s Christmas Adventure
Stanley in Space
Stanley, Flat Again!
The US Capital
Commotion
CREATED BY Jeff Brown
WRITTEN BY Josh Greenhut
PICTURES BY Macky Pamintuan
Contents
Cover
Title Page
1. Stars and Stripes
2. The Governor’s Visit
3. A Hero’s Welcome
4. We the People
5. The Monumental Mistake
6. The Oval Office
7. The Award Ceremony
8. In the Mail
About the Author
What You Need to Know Before Your Own Adventure in the Capital!
Back Ad
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
1
Stars and Stripes
Every Fourth of July, Stanley Lambchop dreamed of being in the local Independence Day parade—that is, until the year that his bulletin board fell on him in the middle of the night and flattened him.
“Can’t I be Abraham Lincoln?” Stanley pleaded. Moments before the parade was about to begin, he found himself sitting in the center of the Grammar Society float, with his legs folded tightly to his chest.
“I cannot tell a lie,” intoned his father, George Lambchop. He towered over Stanley majestically in a white wig and ponytail. “I think you look patriotic.”
“Oh, George,” blushed Stanley’s mother, Harriet Lambchop, who was wearing an old-fashioned blue gown and a ribbon in her hair. “You are such a good father … of our country. George Washington!”
Stanley’s father winked. “No, Betsy Ross. It is you who deserves our gratitude for giving birth to such a fine flag.” He gestured grandly down toward Stanley, and Mrs. Lambchop curtsied with a giggle.
“How many times do I have to tell you,” interrupted Stanley, “I don’t want to be the—”
His younger brother, Arthur, appeared from the other side of the float. Arthur had stretched a pale bathing cap over his head and had fringed it with strands from an old gray mop. “It’s not too late to be my kite, Stanley!” He peered down at Stanley from over his tiny spectacles and patted his huge belly, which was actually a pillow stuffed under his shirt.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Benjamin Franklin,” their father said, shaking his head gravely. “I cannot allow your brother to be struck by lightning.”
“Aw,” said Arthur. “Even if it means discovering electricity?”
Suddenly, a nearby brass band launched into a bouncy rendition of “America the Beautiful.” The float lurched forward.
“The parade is starting!” squealed Stanley’s mother. She picked up a wooden pole and poked it at Stanley. “Stanley, get up! You have to wave!”
“Can’t I just wave with my hands,” Stanley said, “like everyone else?”
“No!” his family shouted.
Stanley let out a sigh, grabbed on to the top of the pole, and slowly unfurled his body.
His mother had spent days sewing his costume. Thirteen red and white stripes ran down to his toes, while a square of blue with white stars covered half of his chest. He began swishing back and forth, as if he were fluttering in the breeze.
“Check out the Stars and Stripes!” someone yelled.
“Hey, flag boy!” someone called. “Smile!”
A local television crew ran up and hopped alongside the float. Everywhere Stanley looked, people were pointing their fingers at him.
Being flat had given Stanley the opportunity to do things most people never dreamed of. He had traveled around the world by airmail. He could slide under doors, slip between bars, and fold himself into an origami ninja throwing star. He had served as a cape used by the great matador Carmen del Junco in Mexico and performed with the acrobatic twins known as the Flying Chinese Wonders in Beijing.
But being flat didn’t always make Stanley feel good. Sometimes, he felt as if people paid attention to him not because of who he was, but merely because of how he looked.
The only reason everyone is so excited, thought Stanley as the float rolled on, is that I look weird.
Around him, his father, mother, and brother waved excitedly to the screaming throng of people. Meanwhile, Stanley’s body kept on waving, but he didn’t even feel like he was there.
The next morning, Stanley was examining himself in the mirror that hung on the back of his bedroom door. He turned to the side, and it was as if his body suddenly disappeared. After all, he was only half an inch thick.
Suddenly, the door flew open.
“Guess who’s on the front page of the newspaper!” shouted Arthur.
“Thanks for knocking,” Stanley grumbled. He pushed the door, and it swung away from the wall where he’d been abruptly flattened once again.
“It’s my room, too,” huffed Arthur. “Anyway, look!”
Sure enough, there was a photograph of the Lambchops atop the parade float—and right in the middle was Stanley, swinging from his mother’s flagpole. WHAT A COUNTRY! blared the headline.
Just then, the telephone rang. “George,” called Stanley’s mother a moment later. “It’s a journalist from WUSA. They’re asking about our very own flag—Stanley!”
Stanley felt something rise up from deep inside him. “I AM NOT A FLAG!” he screamed.
Arthur gaped at Stanley, and suddenly, both their parents were standing in the doorway.
“Stanley,” his mother said slowly. “Are you feeling all right?”
Without answering, Stanley sprinted straight to the living room and slid under the couch, where nobody could bother him.
2
The Governor’s Visit
The fabric on the couch’s bottom bobbed up and down just above Stanley’s nose. Arthur was bouncing on it, flipping channels on TV. “We’re on this channel, too!” Arthur cried happily.
Stanley shut his eyes and sighed heavily.
I wish I’d never been flattened, he thought.
The phone had been ringing all morning. Every time, it was another journalist asking to speak with Stanley, who wouldn’t come out from under the couch.
Then the doorbell rang. From his hiding place, Stanley called, “I’m not here!”
“He’s just overwhelmed, George,” he heard his mother murmur.
The doorbell rang again. Stanley heard his father clear his throat, open the door, and say, “I’m sorry, but—”
Stanley’s parents gasped.
“You’re not a reporter,” sputtered Mr. Lambchop. “You’re—you’re—”
“The governor!” a voice boomed. “And this here is Officer Williams and Officer Parker!”
“Wow,” Arthur’s voice whispered. “Cops.”
“We’re here for Mr. Stanley Lambchop!” the governor announced.
“You’re here for—” began Stanley’s mother tentatively.
Stanley’s heart raced. It was the governor! Of the whole state!
“Well?” boomed the governor. “Where is he?”
Nob
ody spoke.
Stanley knew that his family was thinking the same thing he was: Sliding out from beneath a couch is no way to introduce yourself to a very important person.
“I was afraid of this,” murmured the governor. “Mr. and Mrs. Lambchop, may we come in?”
Stanley saw a pair of cowboy boots and two pairs of very well-shined shoes.
“Can you tell us the last time you saw your son, ma’am?” said the black shoes.
“Why, just this morning,” replied Stanley’s mother’s toe, which was tapping nervously.
“And where was that?” the brown shoes inquired.
“In his room,” answered Mrs. Lambchop.
“Great Gettysburg!” murmured the governor’s boots. “They took the boy from his own room! Don’t you worry,” the boots declared. “You can rest assured we will have the United States government on the case. Those kidnappers will be sorry they ever thought to mess with an American hero!”
“Kidnappers!?” cried Mr. and Mrs. Lambchop.
“American hero?” said Stanley.
The cowboy boots and the shined shoes all turned toward the couch.
“Who said that?” whispered the governor.
Stanley poked his head out from under the couch. “I did?”
“Holy Declaration of Independence!” The governor jumped in surprise.
“I was just, um…,” Stanley got to his feet, “cleaning up underneath the couch.” He picked a piece of fluff off his shirt.
The police officers relaxed their stance, and the governor extended an enormous hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, young man.”
Stanley shook his hand. “My mom sewed the costume,” he stammered. “It really wasn’t my idea.”
“Don’t be bashful,” said the governor. “Be proud. We need more heroes like you.”
“But I didn’t—”
“America can’t get enough of this young man!” The governor clapped Stanley on the back. “You’re on the cover of every newspaper in the nation!”
“I was Ben Franklin!” said Arthur.
The governor mussed Arthur’s hair. “Of course you were! No hero stands alone, my boy!”
Arthur frowned.
“Stanley, we’re here to escort you and your family to Washington. Pack your bags. The chopper lifts off in thirty minutes.”
“Washington, DC?” said Mrs. Lambchop.
“But why?” said Stanley.
“For the ceremony, of course!” laughed the governor.
The Lambchops exchanged confused looks.
“Wait a second. Are you saying you don’t know?”
The governor squared his shoulders. “Stanley Lambchop, by the order of the president of the United States of America, you are to receive the National Medal of Achievement.”
Both of the police officers saluted Stanley.
“Oh, brother,” said Arthur under his breath.
Mr. and Mrs. Lambchop glared at him. “Oh, brother,” Arthur repeated, rolling his eyes. “I’m so proud of you.”
3
A Hero’s Welcome
The military helicopter zoomed through the sky over America. Inside, the governor briefed the Lambchops.
“The National Medal of Achievement,” the governor explained, “has been awarded to the greatest scientists, artists, and political leaders in American history.”
“But I didn’t do anything,” Stanley said quietly.
“Leaping Liberty Bell! That’s not what I read,” said the governor. “I read that you saved Mount Rushmore!”
“He was only a Band-aid on one of the foreheads,” grumbled Arthur. Stanley nodded in agreement.
The governor punched Stanley’s shoulder playfully, and it bent backward for a moment like the corner of a piece of paper. “Stanley,” he said admiringly, “there is nothing more heroic than humility.”
Stanley turned and gazed out the window. They had passed over yellow prairies and green, rolling hills. Now, they were moments from landing in Washington, DC. He knew he was supposed to be excited, but he felt that someone had made a terrible mistake.
“You’ll be under twenty-four-hour guard during your stay in the capital, Stanley,” said the governor. “We can’t risk an international incident.”
“Do you think Stanley is in danger?” Mrs. Lambchop said, shooting an anxious look at Stanley’s father.
The governor leaned forward. “Did you think he was in danger the night you lay him down to sleep under an innocent-looking bulletin board?”
Stanley’s parents’ eyes widened.
“Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of him, ma’am,” said one of the officers sitting behind them.
“Look!” cried Arthur.
Out the window, the top of a thin white tower loomed, looking close enough to touch.
“The Washington Monument,” said the governor. “Built to honor our first president, General George Washington. Begun in 1848, and not completed until another forty years later. At the time, it was the tallest building on Earth.”
As the helicopter touched down a few moments later, Stanley glimpsed an enormous crowd of people waving American flags. “Ready, Stanley?” asked the governor.
Stanley had looked into the eyes of sneak thieves while hiding in a painting at the National Museum. He had been kidnapped by spies in Mexico and foiled grave robbers in Egypt.
But he had never been more frightened than this. There was a rustling in his ears, and he realized his whole body was shaking like a leaf.
I shouldn’t be here, he thought desperately.
Stanley’s parents took his hands as the door swung open, and his feet were immediately blown out from beneath him by the helicopter’s rotors. He flapped wildly between his mother and father.
But then the rotors slowed to a stop, and Stanley realized that the roar he was hearing wasn’t the helicopter. It was the sea of people before him.
Even more shocking, they weren’t waving flags. They were waving… Stanleys. There were hundreds and hundreds of posters cut out to look like Stanley in his flag costume.
“Flat Stanley! Flat Stanley! Flat Stanley!” The crowd surged forward. A screaming girl tried to grab Stanley’s head. Someone stepped on his leg, and Stanley imagined a piece of dough being fed into a rolling machine.
I’ll be trampled! he thought.
In a panic, Stanley broke free from his parents’ grip. He twisted his body and squeezed between two people and then two more, using his flatness to slide through the tight spaces in the crowd. His ears rang with people screaming his name. He slipped and slid and squeezed on and on. Finally, the crowd started to thin out, and he bent his legs beneath him. Now he was a blur, springing through the air, hopping the way he’d learned from the kangaroos in Australia.
And before he realized what he was doing, Stanley Lambchop was running away.
4
We the People
Stanley spotted a pair of police officers strolling toward him. He looked around for a place to hide before he was spotted.
Then he saw it: a big framed poster, taller than he was, hung on a side of the building. It showed a crowd of smiling people of every possible shape and shade, wearing traditional garb from all over the world. At the top were the words WE THE PEOPLE.
Stanley leaped up and balanced inside the frame, plastering his face into a smile. He silently apologized to the white-bearded rabbi he was covering.
The police officers were right in front of him! Their walkie-talkies crackled.
“Calling all forces! National hero misplaced. Description: eleven years old, less than one inch thick, brown hair. Possible kidnapping.”
“Let’s go!” said one of the officers, and they raced away.
Stanley allowed himself a sigh of relief … until he noticed two men on the other side of the boulevard. They were both wearing dark suits and sunglasses, and they were staring right at him. They started crossing the street, weaving between cars, their pace quickening.
A ch
ill went down Stanley’s body. Kidnappers! he thought.
At that moment, a crowd of people came marching down the sidewalk, chanting, “Change the law! Do what’s right! Truth and justice must unite!”
The two men were pushing their way through the crowd. A placard held high by a marcher, reading AND JUSTICE FOR ALL, slid before Stanley’s eyes. He jumped for it.
Hanging off the back of the sign, Stanley glanced back. The two men were spinning in circles in front of the WE THE PEOPLE poster, wondering where he had gone.
I need a disguise, Stanley thought.
A block later, Stanley dived into a recycling bin full of newspapers. He started shoving crumpled-up handfuls of newsprint under his shirt and into the legs of his pants. He’d learned in school how to fold boat-shaped hats out of newspaper, and now he made one and put it on his head.
A tour group was gathered on the giant steps of a building nearby. Stanley rustled up to the back of the group, trying to blend in.
“Many of the most important buildings in Washington were burned during the War of Eighteen-twelve,” the tour guide was saying. “The Library of Congress was mostly destroyed, as was the Capitol. It is said that the smoke could be seen as far away as Baltimore. Even the White House was ruined—but not before a life-size portrait of George Washington was cut out of its frame and sneaked to safety.
“We are all very lucky that the most important documents in our nation’s history weren’t lost during the burning of Washington. Let’s go inside the National Archives and see them.”
In a grand room with very high ceilings, Stanley bent over a large piece of yellow parchment, crowded with script. It was the Declaration of Independence, dated July 4, 1776. The tour guide said it was written by Thomas Jefferson. John Hancock’s very fancy signature stood out among the names of all the people who had signed at the bottom.
