God, what a concept. A decade ago it would’ve been some guy—Joey—on a drunk dial, asking point blank to bang once more for old times, before the old lady tied him down.
How many blow jobs did a girl have to give to get an official relationship status?
Bread crumbs to nowhere, for what, six years?
Wow, a dog in a wedding? Where the hell was that thing going to pee?
Joey with his mincemeat ball sack. Wait, was that his dick!?
Maegan would like us to know the following:
By day, Maegan Heil runs a carpentry company with her husband and mother’s two beautiful boys, ages one and four (send help!). By night, Maegan pens FRESH MEAT, a Substack publication where Maegan collects constructive criticism on her Works-in-Progress—one of which was featured here. As for the traditional market, Maegan hasn’t published jack. But her commitment to making each story better than the last (along with the help of all you agents out there reading this—wink, wink) will soon change that. Maegan's full name rhymes with Reagan trial. Or bacon bile. Bios are not her strength.