A boy sees a ring on a finger, and his mind says “taken.”
But a boy sees a ribbon, and his mind says, “A present? For me?”
Besides Meathead and Derrick, no one else matters. Guys like Pizza Face, or Brad Zitt as they sometimes call him, guys like that are invisible, even to Big Red.
The morgue is where bodies are stored. The funeral home is where they’re transformed.
With enough practice you can make a face look like anyone.
The thing about boys is they say, “No,” but we hear, “Yes.”
Rings should be in next Sunday…
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.
Another remarkable story from Maegan. With the green scarf!
