July 1, 2001
Dear FiberNetters:

A credit to their careful upbringing, Princesses One and Two have grown into lovely young ladies (by wooly lizard standards) and it is now time for them to take their places in society. Destination's nerves are frayed to the point of breaking, as would be those of any dedicated mother with two daughters ready to come out.

The round of parties that usually surrounds debutantes will not be as festive here at the wooly lizards' watering hole in northeast Pennsylvania as it would have been in gay Mongolia, but Destination is determined that the Princesses will have the best coming out that any wooly lizard maidens ever had.

Not that she would ever show it, but Destination is near exhaustion trying to stay ahead of the details. Dealing with a florist who does not know how to display cattails attractively is bad enough, but surely there must be a caterer somewhere in rural Pennsylvania who knows how to debone and properly sauce a bullfrog.

The princesses are absolutely no help at all, spending hours in front of the mirror trying new fleece dyes and squabbling over which of them looks best in shell pink. There have been endless calls to Pro Chemical to get advice on overdyeing their putrid green fleece and it is beginning to look like pastels are out of the question.

It has only been recently, as word of the wooly lizards' arrival spread, that a previously unknown community of lizards was found to be living in the area. They had kept well below the local radar, fearing as they did the area's beagles that are short on foxes to chase. Of course, these lizards are not nearly the size and weight of the Mongolian wooly lizards. Destination refers to them in private as "the smalls".

Destination's efforts to install herself and the princesses among the "better class" (and she says this with a slightly puckered snout) of lizard ladies have not been a slam-bang success. She's invited them over for slugs, contributed generously to their frumpy little charities and graciously ignored the manners of their unattractive daughters who slop mud on imported embroidered tablecloths at Destination's garden parties. (Not to mention the things they do in the punch bowl).

Perhaps she does seem a trifle overbearing at times and her immense size can pose a problem - as when she tried to sidestep a particularly undisciplined hatchling at an afternoon tea and inadvertently trod on her hostess's tail. With tears welling in her eyes, the poor dear insisted it was nothing and was very brave as she was splinted and sedated.

As comforted as Destination is to find this lizard community, she is also depressed by how little it offers in the way of suitable escorts for Princess One and Princess Two. One reason is the princesses' great length, which they consider an asset that could lead to modeling careers, but Destination is sick to death of hearing "but Mo-o-th-e-e-r, he's so SHORT".

The second reason is their fearsome fleeces. A few potential swains have been heard complaining early of a morning about getting 'whisker burns' from an amorous princess.

At our request (we can't help hovering a bit over these kids) "Uncle" Bill, the shearer, came to give the princesses a quick trim before a big party, sort of a show clip. We fortified him with the requisite Jack Daniels (it is up to two bottles now), and he sharpened his finest shears and combs for the appointment.

Unfortunately, the princesses tend to be a trifle ungrateful sometimes. When Princess Two was finished and handed a mirror she took one look at Bill's careful trimming and ran shrieking into the weeds - "I'm not going anywhere BALD". To make matters worse, Bill forgot to leave a little tuft of fleece at the shoulder for the pinning on of a corsage. Princess Two knows all too well that a wrist corsage on a wooly lizard becomes a muddy mess in just a few steps.

Princess One took a fit over the way Bill trimmed around her neck. "No one will ever see the ribbons like this!" she wailed. Bill's patience was pretty well shot by now so you could hardly blame him for grabbing the spoiled brat and holding her fast, scraping his forearms badly on her fleece. He sheared a wide strip around her neck, none too gently, and the sharp shear made just the tiniest nick. At this Princess One tore herself away and went screaming for her mother - "He tried to cut my throat!"

Destination's reaction was what you'd expect from a hundred and fifty-pound lizard mother with a short fuse. She bore down on Bill with jaws snapping, fleece standing straight out all around and huge tail swinging. Bill had just about lost all fear of wooly lizards by this point, especially since the first bottle of Jack Daniels was now empty, so he stood his ground, albeit a little unsteadily, as Destination closed in.

She snapped and lashed her tail while he swung wildly with the empty bottle, managing to raise a knot on Destination's head just behind her right eye. Her roar of outrage was heard all the way to the New York border. It so terrified the princesses that they commenced hysterics and by the time I arrived to break things up it was not a scene any of the participants could be proud of.

Shipping Method had taken himself off to the far edge of the watering hole early in the day to get away from the clamoring women, carrying with him a full box of Twinkies. The corners of his huge jaws drooped, giving him a morose expression. He wondered if he was cut out for fatherhood. The princesses were driving him to distraction and he didn't really miss Short Pants very much. He felt guilty.

Although it had been a difficult decision, all of us had agreed that the water park zoo in San Diego would provide Short Pants with the discipline he so badly needed. It would also offer him a future he'd never have in Pennsylvania where the local lizard parents were united in their efforts to keep their daughters hidden under water whenever he was around.

Shipping Method had confided in DH one day, as the two sat in the sunshine and shared a little cake, that his thoughts were returning more and more often to his days as a young, handsome, carefree lizard in Mongolia. Everything had changed when he was taken captive and sent on the long, dark voyage to this strange part of the world.

The lovely young girl lizard who shared his cage was frightened, trusting and vulnerable. As natural as his manly reaction in those close quarters may have been at the time, it seemed to Shipping Method that everything just went to hell after that.

He was jolted out of his reverie as Destination's furious croak split the air. He visualized the scene around her - a pageant of screaming, bleeding, fighting, drinking and crying.

Shipping Method sighed deeply as the cacophony echoed off the hills around him, drowning out "Marche Slav" in his earphones. It was easy to tell where his thoughts were as he stared glumly into space and popped Twinkies without even chewing them.

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Chapter Three