Sometimes the small things happen to be the big things.

Sounds like a size alteration problem, doesn't it? But I've had occasion not too long ago to discover that it's the simple transformations which seem the least simple.

For example, back during the days before I turned into the lovable lutrine everyone knows and almost everyone adores, (really, they do!) I found myself in need of being transformed into a Santa Claus lookalike. Since I was already large and a bit portly at the time, all that was needed was to change the color of my hair and beard.

The first thing to do was to find a hair merchant willing to do the job. So I made my way to a local business conveniently titled The Hair Merchant. They took one look at my dark hair and said, "I don't think we can do it." After a day of intensive research, including a call to the hair color emergency hotline (I'm not making this up, there really is such a thing!) they determined that it was impossible, and that if attempted, I would end up looking like a leprechaun with a sunburn. They then told me Butch's Hair Shack could do it.

The first thing done was to smear my face and scalp with a bleaching agent. Though I was warned it would probably burn my skin, there really was no problem there. It just felt like someone had dumped snow on my head. Breathing was a different matter. I ended up with a folded white bath towel in my mouth to act as a filter. I've never been so glad that human mouths only open on one side.

The bleach needed some encouragement, unfortunately, to reach its full potential. The head hairdresser, a lady named Butch (I'm not making that up, either!) determined that heat was the key. So... my head was wrapped in aluminum like a baked potato while I sat under the hair dryer trying not to breathe too deeply. This process was repeated twice before finally adding a rinse designed for old people who would rather be white like their peers than blonde. (still not making it up!)

The entire process took seven solid hours.

The cost: $130. My sister paid for the process, but to this day I'm still too chicken to tell her exactly how much she shelled out via blank check.

In contrast, when I was transformed into a reindeer the process was free and took about thirty seconds. Weird, huh?

And since I don't like to end my column without some useful suggestions, here are some nice gift ideas for you transformation fans:

How about a magic remote for your argumentative kids? Just look for Don Knotts in the TV repair truck.

Your fiance will love you forever if you give her a scarab ring and tell her those three little words: "Incanis Corpore Transmuto".

For that sportsman on your Christmas list, how about a set of magic horseshoes? Two sports in one! He can throw them or race in them.

Furry Christmas to all, and to all a were's bite!