Necessità, the Short Yet Adorably Airplane-Eared Goat (Part 2)

Okay, then, break's over.  Where have you been?  Oh, wait.  That was me that went on break.  Anyway, if you are just tuning in (and what the hay were you thinking?), you'll just have to go on down the line and read Part 1 first.  Otherwise it would just be like putting your underwear over your jeans.  Oy.

When last we knew, the SnowCatcher, burdened by extensive photographic equipment and crochet hooks, had just flung herself through the blinding snow in search of the elusive Yeti, only to find a lost and lonely little goat.  "Awwww.  What is the matter my little airplane-eared friend?  Why are you out here all alone and why have you no camera? (Because, you know, this is the first question that comes to anyone's mind when they meet someone out in the middle of a blizzard.) Are you lost?", asked the SnowCatcher.  "And what's this?  You seem to be wearing one fabulous designer mitten from the famous Mrs. Micawber.  Only one?  Well, perhaps the other is still at Interweave."

Necessità blinked.  While perhaps not her first choice in a rescuer, any port in a storm, right?  So she smiled, said 'Weeelll ...', and began 'splaining how she had come to such a pitiful end.   The SnowCatcher listened intently and then said, "I see.  That's rather a sad tale.  I'd be more than happy to take you wherever you need to go, but the problem is this.  I'm one heck of a photographer, and I can crochet itsy bitsy teensy weensy  miniscule and microscopic things like nobody's business,  but I don't know Peanuts about finding my way.  I suppose we ought to go this way."  So off they trudged into the snowy night, photographer and goat. 

By and by, they came upon tracks in the snow.  The tracks looked rather familiar too.  Come to think of it, maybe a little too familiar, for they were the tracks of one person and one small goat.  Oy.  The pair had gone in a circle.  As the SnowCatcher stood pondering just exactly where she had gone wrong, there came a sudden noise.  Startled, the wanderers jumped back just as a bicycle came crashing through the trees, and atop the cycle, a man.  But this was no ordinary man.  No indeed.  For this, my friends was The Lizard!  (What?!  A lizard on a bicycle?  Was this some kind of Gecko selling car insurance or something?)  "I am The Lizard, and I have a name, but nobody knows what it is.", he announced.  "Why are an adorably airplane-eared little goat and a photographer with crochet hooks out in the snowy woods in the middle of the night?  For that matter, why am I out here in the middle of the night and on a bicycle, no less?  I'll tell you why!  I am the most famous cyclist in these parts.  It is known near and far that I can find my way anywhere and do things on a bicycle no one else has ever even thought about doing!"

Necessità and the SnowCatcher looked at each other and at the same instant one thought passed between them.  Exactly what we need!!!  The SnowCatcher looked at the hunkly Lizard and began to explain how Necessità had become lost and how she, herself, had found the sadly one-mittened goat and offered to help, but that, as a result, they had become even loster.  (Please don't cry, Mrs. Micawber.  It is a word.  Surely  it is.)

Swelling with pride, The Lizard began to speak.  "I have been traversing these mountains since I was knee high to an earthworm.  Why in my day, we could travel 100 miles in a day.  Not like these kids now days.  Yes, we'd travel 100 miles.  Uphill.  One way.  In the snow.  At 15 degrees below zero.  Barefoot and buck nak ...."  "STOP!", yelled the SnowCatcher.  "TOO much information!!!!!"

At any rate, soon the little party was on its way.  They traveled for miles and miles, and just miles.  It is a mystery how Necessità managed to get quite so lost, but I suppose she did have help.  At last, they arrived in Iowa.  (Spielgoat.  Iowa is nowhere near the Roman Empire.  How could they end up in Iowa, for Pete's sake!?)  All I can tell you is this.  Perhaps The Lizard isn't quite as good at finding his way as he would have everyone believe.  I'm just sayin' ...

Anyway, in Iowa, the three parted ways.  The SnowCatcher thought Iowa might be the perfect place to capture the world's first photo of corn actually growing and set off on her own.  The Lizard said he simply had to get back to the mountains (wherever they were), and simply couldn't stay any longer.  Once again, Necessità was on her own.  But she didn't cry.  Oh, no.  Crying was for sissies and Roman soldiers who have scratched their hairy legs in the underbrush during hot pursuit of fleeing Mongols.  Or maybe over-charging pizza vendors. 

By and by, Necessità came upon a lovely, lovely field.  Why it was even green in the middle of winter just like the Garden of Eden.  It was that lovely.  I guess you could say it was almost like Eden Hills.  Ahem.  Standing in the field was the loveliest white goat Necessità had ever seen.  Tall and statuesque with a beautiful long white beard, the regal creature observed the little airplane-eared Caprine.  "Who are you?", asked Necessità.  The goat smiled down at her and said, "Little one.  I am Millie.  I am an angel sent to guide your way."  (Who knew angels lived in Iowa anyway?  Do NOT tell the Roman soldiers.)

Ho hum.  Break time again!  Oh, quit your belly-achin'.  A goat gets hungry telling these tales.  Plus, if I keep doing this I might be able to make it last clear up to Christmas ...  Milk it for all it's worth, so to speak (pardon the pun).  Okay, then,  staaaay tuned ...  :)