The nutritionists first catch wind of the underground network in Boston; something is off about their athletes and their sugar intake. Then reports pop up in Calgary, then Florida, then San Jose. In just a few weeks, the news of the jam has spread to all 31 teams.
The players are tight-lipped; all raving about the secret sweet condiment is shut down when the nutritionist is within earshot.
Some say Kent Parson missed a chance for a GWG because someone chirped him about having not tried the jam yet. Alexei Mashkov denies being the one that chirped him. Parson denies being the only one in the league to not have had the jam.
They suspect that the jam is getting shipped out of Nashville. “Only southerners,” they say.
No nutritionist suspects Providence, but all the players know they have to go through Jack Zimmermann to get the goods.
That is odd because almost every day I was there, I ate lunch at that diner and became dear friends with the cook. He told me a story about the night you’re talking about. A man walked into his place, sat down, ordered sweet potato pie, identified himself as FBI Agent Mulder. He then questioned my friend. He then ordered piece after piece, each time asking another question. He ate a whole pie in that fashion, then got up and left. My friend never saw him again.
Bitty = Sweet, shy, self-effacing guy who shies away from physical contact.
Sailor Pie = Bold, fierce, fearless crusader for love and justice. Never runs from a real fight. (May swoonfaint pass out afterwards)
Two totally dissimilar individuals, linked by a similar physique and truly amazing pastry. Are they related? Is there a single genetic ancestor from the Pie Kingdom whose traits come out over and over again in his very different descendants? Or do people like that spontaneously occur throughout the population like psychic avatars of Pie, never crossing paths but nevertheless sharing moments of unnerving similarity? IT’S JUST SO CONFUSING GOSHDARNIT.