‘I’ll get you a nice warm glass of milk,’ said Miss Tibbs.
‘I hate the stuff,’ said the President. ‘Please don’t make me drink it!’
‘Summon the Chief Interpreter,’ said Miss Tibbs.
‘Summon the Chief Interpreter!’ said the President. ‘Where is he?’
‘Right here, Mr President,’ said the Chief Interpreter.
‘What language was that creature spouting up there in the Space Hotel? Be quick! Was it Eskimo?’
‘Not Eskimo, Mr President.’
‘Ha! Then it was Tagalog! Either Tagalog or Ugro!’
‘Not Tagalog, Mr President. Not Ugro, either.’
‘Was it Tulu, then? Or Tungus or Tupi?’
‘Definitely not Tulu, Mr President. And I’m quite sure it wasn’t Tungus or Tupi.’
‘Don’t stand there telling him what it wasn’t, you idiot!’ said Miss Tibbs. ‘Tell him what it was!’
‘Yes, ma’am, Miss Vice-President, ma’am,’ said the Chief Interpreter, beginning to shake. ‘Believe me, Mr President,’ he went on, ‘it was not a language I have ever heard before.’
‘But I thought you knew every language in the world?’
‘I do, Mr President.’
‘Don’t lie to me, Chief Interpreter. How can you possibly know every language in the world when you don’t know this one?’
‘It is not a language of this world, Mr President.’
‘Nonsense, man!’ barked Miss Tibbs. ‘I understood some of it myself!’
‘These people, Miss Vice-President, ma’am, have obviously tried to learn just a few of our easier words, but the rest of it is a language that has never been heard before on this Earth!’
‘Screaming scorpions!’ cried the President. ‘You mean to tell me they could be coming from . . . from . . . from somewhere else?’
‘Precisely, Mr President.’
‘Like where?’ said the President.
‘Who knows?’ said the Chief Interpreter. ‘But did you not notice, Mr President, how they used the words Venus and Mars?’
‘Of course I noticed it,’ said the President. ‘But what’s that got to do with it? . . . Ah-ha! I see what you’re driving at! Good gracious me! Men from Mars!’
‘And Venus,’ said the Chief Interpreter.
‘That,’ said the President, ‘could make for trouble.’
‘I’ll say it could!’ said the Chief Interpreter.
‘He wasn’t talking to you,’ said Miss Tibbs.
‘What do we do now, General?’ said the President.
‘Blow ’em up!’ cried the General.
‘You’re always wanting to blow things up,’ said the President crossly. ‘Can’t you think of something else?’
‘I like blowing things up,’ said the General. ‘It makes such a lovely noise. Woomph-woomph!’
‘Don’t be a fool!’ said Miss Tibbs. ‘If you blow these people up, Mars will declare war on us! So will Venus!’
‘Quite right, Nanny,’ said the President. ‘We’d be troculated like turkeys, every one of us! We’d be mashed like potatoes!’
‘I’ll take ’em on!’ shouted the Chief of the Army.
‘Shut up!’ snapped Miss Tibbs. ‘You’re fired!’
‘Hooray!’ said all the other generals. ‘Well done, Miss Vice-President, ma’am!’
Miss Tibbs said, ‘We’ve got to treat these fellows gently. The one who spoke just now sounded extremely cross. We’ve got to be polite to them, butter them up, make them happy. The last thing we want is to be invaded by men from Mars! You’ve got to talk to them, Mr President. Tell Houston we want another direct radio link with the Space Hotel. And hurry!’
6
Invitation to the White House
‘The President of the United States will now address you!’ announced the loudspeaker voice in the lobby of the Space Hotel.
Grandma Georgina’s head peeped cautiously out from under the sheets. Grandma Josephine took her fingers out of her ears and Grandpa George lifted his face out of the pillow.
‘You mean he’s actually going to speak to us?’ whispered Charlie.
‘Ssshhh!’ said Mr Wonka. ‘Listen!’
‘Dear friends!’ said the well-known Presidential voice over the loudspeaker. ‘Dear, dear friends! Welcome to Space Hotel “U.S.A.” Greetings to the brave astronauts from Mars and Venus . . .’
‘Mars and Venus!’ whispered Charlie. ‘You mean he thinks we’re from . . .’
‘Ssshh-ssshh-ssshh!’ said Mr Wonka. He was doubled up with silent laughter, shaking all over and hopping from one foot to the other.
‘You have come a long way,’ the President continued, ‘so why don’t you come just a tiny bit farther and pay us a visit down here on our humble little Earth? I invite all eight of you to stay with me here in Washington as my honoured guests. You could land that wonderful glass air-machine of yours on the lawn in back of the White House. We shall have the red carpet out and ready. I do hope you know enough of our language to understand me. I shall wait most anxiously for your reply . . .’