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In the local bar sub-culture heís known on the arcade-golf machines as JJW. Heís also known as Whitey (a derogatory reference to his pre-mature gray). He favors Long Island Iced Teas, Blackberry Brandy, and pints of Budweiser. Well, I guess last Tuesday he favored them all at the same time as I was told he broke his leg in five places after his car ran over him in the parking lot of the Market Place Shopping Center in Collegeville after a full day socializing with the creature.

Of course, when you hear a story like that by way of the grapevine you can be sure there are several versions circulating in chorus. And itís likely that none contain the whole truth of the matter. So, in an effort to distill fact from fiction, the Man-of-Mystery set out to get the low-down surrounding this debacle. Over the span of a couple days, I asked several Collegeville locals with various connections to the protagonist what they knew . . . this is what they told me:

Scott (carpet installer and barfly, asked while he was nursing a pint): "I heard it was a drinking accident. The dumb bastard only lives a hundred yards from the bar, why drive your car in the first place?

Jim (chef and anti-socialist, asked as he prepared to urinate): Jim didnít answer me, he seemed preoccupied trying to find something.

Julie (nurse and former girlfriend of victim, asked while walking in Perkiomen Woods Sub Division): " . . .Well I donít know shit about that but it doesnít surprise me. Howís the car?"

Dee (bartender and nemesis of man-of-mystery, asked while ignoring me): "Youíre an asshole, Hank!"

LeeAnne (waitress and aspiring bi-sexual, asked while washing a glass): Like Jim before her, she didnít answer me either, she was laughing too hard. But I was confident she knew where to find her genitals.

The Man-of-Mystery remains in the dark. But thatís okay . . . I like it there.




















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