Following a beacon as bright as a red neon light, we were drawn to our next mushroom, who was a self-employed prostitute of the mushroom people. She wanted to be considered as a candidate for Poison Pie's bride. Although my sister doubted the idea, I wrote the mushroom's name down on the list. Many men had fallen for fallen angels. Dostoyevsky, for example, fell for a fallen angel. Or, consider Jesus Christ and Mary Magdalene, herself a fallen angel, whose love was consummated not by vulgar intercourse but by a chaste annointing of the feet.

Marie shook her head in disbelief.