Horror Story pt. 2

 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.



                                     The end.









                            Or is it? BWAHAHAHAHAHA













                                                          It is.

Horror Story

Once, there was a little girl named Tracyn. She was an extraordinary girl. Well, not extraordinary. Pretty normal, actually. In fact, she was so normal, she was often called "Normal Tracyn", because her friends were not very imaginative with nicknames. Normally, she went to school, and she had normal conversations with her normal friends, but none of them were as normal as her. These normal conversions were often made up of words, many of which, when transcribed, would be made up of letters. On a normal day at Normalville Junior High School High, she would have normal classes, then go and have a normal lunch. This was one such day. "I think i'll go to lunch," said Tracyn, one day as she was going to lunch, heading to the lunchroom, which is where people often go after they have such thoughts as "I think i'll go to lunch", to go to lunch. She walked to the food serving... thing... line... (I didn't go to public school, i don't know what you call it). anyway, she went to get food. She walked up to the first tray of food. "Hmm, I don't think I'll have spaghetti for lunch today", said Tracyn as she looked at the spaghetti thinking "I don't think I'll have spaghetti for lunch today". She walked to the next tray. "Hmm, i don't think i want huitlacoche for lunch today". She walked to the next tray "Hmm, I don't think I want Ralph's potted meat for lunch today." Then the fateful moment happened: she walked to the next tray, filled with baked beans. She looked at them. They looked at her. She briefly wondered how they were looking back at her, but then she realized the author wasn't necessarily being literal (Although in this case he was), But by this time she realized she had broken the fourth wall, and had made the story less believable, although it wasn't that believable to begin with, although nothing out of the ordinary has happened yet. ANYWAY. She got a heaping helping of these baked beans. From this moment onward, something sparked in her, a lifelong passion for baked beans... And murder. 
               This story will continue next time, and probably finish next time as well. 
Spaghetti,
      Master Chef