We found a mushroom bride so white we had to shield our eyes with our hands. Even those measures were insufficient protection from its brilliance. In the glare of its luminosity, the mushroom seemed to hover a quarter of an inch above the earth. We thought that perhaps we had stumbled across an angel of the mushroom people.

"Give us some divine wisdom," I asked, while Marie gave me a look like I was a buffoon, only equaled by the now legendary buffoonery of Poison Pie.

The angel of the mushroom people said in a wispy voice, "She waits for you at the water fall."