Alexis Fawx- Megan Sage - Apple Pie And I Screa... May 2026

That night, they didn’t sleep. They peeled Granny Smiths until their fingers ached. They borrowed a liquid nitrogen tank from a disgraced chemist. By dawn, the two trucks were parked side by side, and a new sign hung between them:

For the first time in months, Alexis smiled. “You’re insane.” Alexis Fawx- Megan Sage - Apple Pie And I Screa...

Alexis looked up. Leaning against the truck’s counter was a woman with wild sage-green eyes and a crooked smile. She wore a faded diner jacket embroidered with the name Megan . That night, they didn’t sleep

Alexis snorted. “The truth is, my pies are too sharp. Too much cinnamon. Too much spite. People want sweet. I give them complex.” By dawn, the two trucks were parked side

“I lied,” Megan said softly. “I don’t have a podcast. I don’t even have a blog. Dust & Sugar was my mother’s. She used to make apple pie and then scream at the sky during thunderstorms. She said the world needed both—the comfort and the rage.”

Alexis put the knife down. “So why me?”

“No,” Megan said, tapping the notebook. “I’m a genius with a podcast and a deadline. The article is called ‘Apple Pie and I Scream.’ It’s about how we chase comfort and chaos in the same bite. And you, Alexis Fawx, are the crust holding it together.”