Set in the rolling hills is a hengy miracle of foam, "Foamhenge," built out of over 4 tons of styrofoam, or was it out of 16 tons of rock by neolithic Brits, or by Merlin? You decide.
It was good that one of us was skilled in both anthropology and applied archeology, as this phenomena was worthy of expert investigation.
One truly feels connected to the ancient Foamians and their sun rituals.
We were just about to leave when we heard some odd scrabbling sounds coming from the foam behind us. Mary figured it was just rodents, but I wanted to investigate. I turned around and BAM! I was paralyzed! Rooted to the spot and unable to move, while a mysterious cloaked figure demanded of us, "Who violates the sanctity of the eternal Foamhenge?"
Being paralyzed by his magic, I could only stare dumbly and wonder. Who was this man? A Jedi? Gandalf? Dumbledore on a bad day? Then I remembered...the sign! The builder of Foamhenge had left a number of written warnings that I hadn't taken seriously; Foamhenge was supposedly guarded by Merlin, the ghost of a Foamhengian enthusiast who had himself cast in plaster so that he might always watch over Foamhenge and protect it from hoodlums. My unnatural silence must have attracted Mary's attention, because as I stood still, desperately trying to think of way out of my predicament, I heard her exclaim, "Wow, a statue! I'm taking a picture!" I tried to shout, to warn her of the danger, but Merlin and I were stuck staring at each other, a battle of wills. It turns out I needn't have worried. It seems that photography is the thing to break Merlin's magic, because as soon as Mary's camera shutter clicked, Merlin was naught but plaster and I was free to move again.
Mary breaks Merlin's spell.
How Mary knew this vital piece of information, she would not say. "I thought everyone knew that," she said. Keeping our cameras aimed steadily at the enchanted statue, we were able to back out of Foamhenge and make our escape. But before we departed, Mary stopped, turned back towards the henge, saying nothing, and merely pointed at the foam construction, like a baseball player calling his shot. I had the sense that something strange and powerful was going on, but there was no time to investigate further; we had a schedule to keep. And Mary didn't seem inclined towards explaining any of it.
(I wonder what I may have gotten myself into.)