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1
¡Olé!
    â€œYou have met your match!” Stanley Lambchop called down the hallway to his younger brother, Arthur.
    Arthur snorted and stomped his foot.
    â€œMy amigo is right!” said Carlos, their friend from next door who had slept over. Stanley knew that amigo meant“friend” in Spanish. “You will never defeat a great matador—and cape—like us!”
    Carlos took Stanley’s hands and dangled him just off the ground. This 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 hecould be a very good bullfighter’s cape whenever Carlos came over to play.
    Arthur charged down the hall, headed straight for them. At the very last moment, Carlos swung Stanley upward. Arthur passed below as Stanley’s toes brushed the ceiling.
    â€œ ¡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 toward 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—
    â€œBOYS!!” 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.
    â€œHaven’t I told you, ‘No horsing around?!’” Mr. Lambchop said.
    â€œBut 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 favor of proper speech whenever possible.
    â€œMy cousin Carmen del Junco is afamous matador in Mexico,” Carlos admitted. “It is in my blood.”
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    â€œSpeaking 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.

    â€œWhy, it’s huevos rancheros !” Mrs. Lambchop said.
    â€œLooks more like eggs,” said Arthur.
    Carlos chuckled. “ Huevos means ‘eggs’ in Spanish. Huevos rancheros is a special dish with eggs on top of atortilla.” He elbowed Stanley. “You will like the tortilla, amigo . It is flat like you!”
    Everybody dug in.
    â€œIsh ish delishish!” exclaimed Arthur.
    â€œPlease 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.
    â€œI made it with the seasoning that Carlos’s mother gave me,” Mrs. Lambchop explained proudly. For her birthday, Mrs. Lambchop had a partywith a cooking theme. Stanley had given her a spatula, although he was almost injured when Arthur tried to flip him with