Portland Pie

Um, the wings were good when Maggie and Sam went to Portland Pie for dinner, a short story written for Ms. Eisenstein's sixth-grade English class. It was supposed to be a pizza review for the Sun Journal:

But it turned into an investigation of buffalo wings rather faster than I had expected, because I went in with my 13-year-old brother, Sam, who has an obsession with them that surpasses all my attempts at understanding.

It might be annoying if it wasn't so funny.

Wings. Chicken wings. Cut by poor people in the South, via CO. Get it?