Lizard

Most schoolchildren wouldn't consider Len Knapp cool. The pompadoured, retired fourth-grade teacher, who won't reveal his age but says that "Abraham Lincoln and I went to school together," wears zipper-front bowling shirts and doesn't drive a flashy car. He enunciates every syllable and has been known to put an index finger on his lips and raise his other hand, making a "V" with his fingers to demand silence. But then, he opens the storage chests he has dragged with him - and out come lizards, turtles, tortoises and snakes.

It lumbers out of the sea, its spiky tail slicing skyscrapers in half, big clawed feet squashing automobiles like tin cans, its eyes looking fierce and soulful and - well, really, really fake. In Godzilla 2000, the humongo reptile of Japanese cinema is back, terrorizing innocent citizens and giving the military a reason to call up its high-tech tanks and jet fighters. (They're useless, of course, but you've got to give it a shot, right?) An enjoyable throwback to the way monster movies used to be made (cheesy effects, and dialogue to go with 'em)

It's a bright and sunny Saturday afternoon in summer - a perfect day for swimming and playing ball outside and riding bikes. Or for sitting in a dank and dimly lit basement watching Godzilla movies. Given the choice, there are actually those who would go outside. These people are called normal. The rest of them are Godzilla Geeks, and this week they get the monster of all gifts - the G-Man himself, back on the big screen terrorizing Tokyo, bad dubbing and all. Look out!

Professor Scott McRobert calls his current work "quirky. " That word, though, may not adequately describe his study, in which one person reads a Dr. Seuss book to Fido the iguana while another counts how many times Fido bobs his head. (Note: No taxpayer dollars are involved.) This work is not really unusual for McRobert, a professor of biology who spends much of his time surrounded by turtles, fish, frogs and lizards in a laboratory at St. Joseph's University, where he has been a professor for 10 years.

Here's an obituary everyone in Hollywood should read. Godzilla, beloved monster, was found dead recently at movie theaters throughout the world. Cause of death: self-inflicted, suffocated by the technology that made him possible. Survived by a large inventory of unsold toys at F.A.O. Schwartz. The unexpected demise of "Godzilla" was no fluke. This was destiny. The logical conclusion to a decade-long Hollywood strategy to lure audiences with the promise of amazing visuals made possible with new computer effects.

Could the digital era be a virtual dog's life? After all, at least one computer-game publisher offers digitized puppies and kittens - at http://www.dogz.com - for those who crave the kind of four-legged companionship that arrives housebroken and disappears with a flip of an on-off switch. Among the younger set, the raging popularity of Tamagotchi pets has prompted some schools to ban the toys, lest classroom time be interrupted by virtual-care-and-feeding duties. Now, computer and video gamers can enlist the support of the animal kingdom as an increasing number of games turn to the slimy, furry or four-legged as their central characters.

Here's the bare-bones plot of Tri-Star Pictures' $100 million sci-fi blockbuster "Godzilla," scheduled for release May 20: A huge lizard with big spiked plates down his back - a dead ringer for a dinosaur - shows up in the middle of New York City. It's up to Matthew Broderick, Jean Reno and Hank Azaria, among others, to stop the creature before it whomps and stomps Manhattan - as well as the rest of the world - into dust. Does this sound familiar? Of course. After all, there have been 22 previous movies about Godzilla.

Paul Winke still remembers the thrill he witnessed in the eyes of his science students more than 30 years ago when "Herbie" the lizard landed safely, strapped to a parachute, after he was launched in a model rocket from behind Walnut Street School. Before risking the pet's life, the students in Winke's model rocket club had launched eggs, padded with cotton and assorted cushions, during trial runs. "The eggs came back down in perfect condition," said Winke, 61, unable to hide his amusement at the memory.

Yeah, he showed up on Barbara Walters, and has made one or two amazing appearances at New York events, but Christopher Reeve wasn't able to go home - until yesterday. Almost seven months after the riding accident that left him paralyzed from the shoulders down, the actor left the North Jersey facility where he's been in rehab for his home in upstate New York. "As I leave Kessler Institute, I experience many profound feelings," Reeve said in a statement issued yesterday. "Most of all, happiness to be going home with my wife and children.

They're ugly. They bite. They can be infectious. And they're wildly popular. Green iguanas. "The number of reptiles imported into the United States has increased dramatically . . . and primarily reflects importation of iguanas (27,806 in 1986 to 798,405 in 1993)," states a May 5 report from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. One of those lizards belongs to Rene Massey. Massey runs a dog-grooming business in South Ardmore. She usually has to keep her iguana at home in Kensington.