My name is Esai Morales and I'll be reading "Private I Guana: the Case of the Missing Chameleon" by Nina Laden.

Cute story.

I was sitting at my desk when I got the call.

"Private I. Guana here," I said. "Yes, I can find missing lizards. A chameleon? Well. . . okay. Why don't you come over to my office and bring a photo."

As I hung up, I wondered if I should have said okay. Chameleons are hard to find. But she sounded upset. I guess I'm a sucker for a lizard in distress

"You can call me Liz," she said as she made herself comfortable in my office.

"Here is a recent snapshot of Leon. He didn't come home for dinner one night last week. I had made his favorite, cricket stew. . .

I haven't seen him since. He was acting a little strange, changing colors every minute.

He's always been the stay-at-home type, and well, frankly. . . boring. I'm afraid he could be in trouble."

I puffed myself up and said, "Now, don't you worry, Liz. If I can't find Leon, no one can. by the way," I asked, "What color was he when you last saw him?"

Quickly I made a pile of posters of Leon, the missing chameleon. Not knowing what color he was, I figured I'd color each poster differently.

Too bad Leon didn't have a scar, or a tatoo.

Then I set out to hang them up wherever I could. I stopped first to check in with Officer Croaker, the bullfrog chief of police.

Officer Croaker, who had a habit of jumping to conclusions, said, "A missing chameleon? That's a waste of time. Probably pretending to be a rock."

I said, "Thanks for your help, Officer. Maybe I'll go talk to some boulders."

So I hit the dirt to see what I could dig up. I plastered the forest with posters.

I went over fields, under rocks, and up trees. I talked to turtles, lizards, snakes, frogs, toads, and a couple of skinks. It was getting dark.

My feet were tired, my tongue was tied, and I had no clues, no tales, no trails, no Leon.

Maybe this chameleon had really disappeared for good. But maybe I just wasn't looking in the right place.

I decided to head home and start again in the morning. On the way, I saw a firefly-like glow in the distance by the swamp.

I had forgotten all about The Lizard Lounge.

It was kind of a slimy place, where only the most cold-blooded reptiles hung out. My head was telling me not to go there.

But my stomach said, "Boy, I sure could go for some of those greasy fried grasshoppers and a tall cold drink."

So I put my stomach in charge and followed it.

The Lizard Lounge was buzzing with activity. I scoped out the place, making sure not to ruffle any feathers or step on any tails.

I made my way to the back and sat at a table where I could keep an eye on things. The menu was my first order of business.

I noticed that the special this week was cricket stew. "It's probably just a coincidence," I thought to myself.

A sweet salamander sashayed over to my table. "I'm Sally, your waitress," she said.

"What's a nice amphibian like you doing in a place like this?" I asked her.

When I didn't get an answer, I ordered my food. I noticed a sign on the stage that said, This week: Camille and the Gila Girls.

I said, "Hey Sally, who's this Camille?" Sally smiled, "I don't know who Camille is.

She just appeared out of the blue a few days ago, but boy, can she sing. She fits right in with our house band, the Gila Girls. You really should stay for the show."

I had nothing better to do, and the fried grasshoppers were pretty tasty, so I decided to stay. Soon the place got dark.

Everyone stopped what they were doing. All eyes were on the stage.

The Gila Girls took their places. Then a spotlight came on. The curtain rustled, and out slithered the most unusual chameleon I had ever seen.

Something about her was familiar. It was like I'd seen her face somewhere before.

I tried to remember, but then she started to sing, and my mind went blank. I was hypnotized.

When the show was over, Camille bowed and disappeared behind the curtain. I clapped and whistled as loud as I could. There was no doubt I had just seen a star.

I had to get an autograph.

Maybe it was instinct. Maybe I was crazy. But here I was, sneaking around the backstage at The Lizard Lounge, looking for her dressing room door.

I was so nervous, I was shaking. I knocked on her door, and when a voice said, "Yes? Come in," I nearly shed my skin.

I couldn't believe I was alone with an amazing singer. I stammered, "Ca-Camille, I-I wanted to get your autograph. . . could you sign this?"

And I pulled out the first thing I could find from my pocket and handed it to her.

Camille looked shocked. She said, "How did you know?"

What did I know? I wondered. I was totally confused. Then I put two and two together. I knew there was something familiar about Camille.

By mistake, I had handed her the photo of Leon to sign. And then I realized that Camille was Leon, the missing chameleon.

I had hit the jackpot. "You know Liz is looking for you," I said. "She's very upset. She misses you."

Leon took off his wig and sighed.

"I miss her, too. But I was worried Liz thought I was too boring. I thought she might leave me for someone more exciting.

I wanted to show her that I had talent, that I could be a somebody special. Maybe even a star! When I heard that the Gila Girls needed a new singer.

I jumped at the chance to polish my act. Naturally, I blended right in."

And so I closed the case of the missing Camille/Leon. Last I heard, Leon was the singing sensation of the swamp.

Liz watches the show and then returns to the kitchen, where she's the new head chef. Her cricket stew is getting rave reviews.

It seems that The Lizard Lounge is actually becoming a respectable place.

As for me, who knows what the next case will bring?

A frog that jumped bail. . . a turtle running a shell game...a poisoned snake. . . just remember, if you've got a problem, give me a call.

The name is Private I. Guana. The "I" stands for "I'll be waiting."

That was great. Thanks for joining us.