When we left off, Tracyn had just discovered the wonder of baked beans. As she grew older, her obsession grew stronger.
One day, she had a friend over for lunch. While her friend, Wyndi, ate a Caesar cilantro sausage soup salad sandwich from Cincinnati, Tracyn ate baked beans, like she did for every meal. Wyndi reached over with her fork and stabbed a baked bean. Tracyn boiled with anger. Her face turned red. She figuratively exploded with anger. Then she settled down. She had a plan.
That night after Wyndi had gone home, Tracyn left the house with a knife, a gallon of baked beans, and evil in her heart. She got to Wyndi's house. She pulled out the knife, and cut the Bush's logo into the yard. She then threw the knife into the street. Then she realized it was a perfectly good knife, and picked it back up and carefully put it in it's sheath. Then she busted open a window, climbed inside the house and found Wyndi's room. She creaked open the door. She could hear the quiet breathing, but as she grew closer the rate of the breath grew quicker, suspenseful violin music played- she lifted up the blankets, opened the lid of the baked beans- Wyndi woke up screaming, her eyes wide in terror, but it was too late. Her feet... had been covered in baked beans.
Where is Wyndi now? She lived, but she was never able to recover from the horror of her feet being covered in baked beans.
Where is Trayn now? Nobody knows. Some say she died with the last of her supply of baked beans. Some say she was put into a mental institution. But some say... She's still out there, waiting to exact revenge on anyone who eats baked beans. Who knows... She could be outside your window RIGHT NOW.
Or is it? BWAHAHAHAHAHA