Naked Tracy's Adventures in Madnessland

Naked Tracy and the Restaurant of Doom

"Wait what the shitting fuck?" Naked Tracy spluttered onto the floor (she did not know there was a floor to be spluttered upon, but that is another story). She had just opened the first book she had ever seen. Stacy had bought it for her for her fucking birthday at some point, and she had finally picked it up. Turns out, books didn't melt at her touch the way most things did. Anyway, a menu had just fallen out.
"Why is there a fucking menu in this shit? Do books come with food? I would have read so many of those bitches if I'd known that."
She called Stacy.
"Please tell me you're not in another story," Stacy said when she picke dup. "I just got to my vacation and I don't want to get involved in your life."
"You already are involved," Naked Tracy sobbed happily. "You bought me a motherbooking fuck! I mean a motherfucking book!"
"That was 10 years ago," Stacy said. "I did that as a joke. I didn't even think you could read."
"I didn't either but I just fucking picked up a book," Naked Tracy screamed. "And do you know what happened?"
"Knowing you, a portal to hell opened up. Or maybe someone died or there were drugs somewhere."
"Oh there are definitely drugs somewhere, bitch," Naked Tracy giggled. Somewhere was inside her. She had shot a ton of shit directly into her veins. Lots of heroin and cocaine and thyme and shit. It was sick. "But no. There was a menu."
"What?"
"A FUCKING MENU" said Naked Tracy, who felt that there wasn't nearly enough going on in this story. "NOW HURRY THE FUCK UP AND TELL ME WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON"
"I don't know," said Stacy. "I got it at a used bookstore. The last owner must have put a menu in there."
"It's a clue!" Naked Tracy deduced, ignoring the question of whatever the fuck a used bookstore was.
"What? No," Stacy said, but she was hung up on and never to be seen again. Probably living it up in the Bahamas or wherever the fuck.
"I WILL FIND YOU MENU MAN," Naked Tracy cried out, taking a bite out of a meth apple and summoning her valet to take her to the restaurant the menu was from.
"VALET. VAAAAALLLLLEEEEET!" Naked Tracy whispered into her television set. Then she remembered that she didn't have a valet. Or a television set. And that she had broken into the Taj Mahal. And that people had tried to stop her so she killed everyone in India except one guy called Seth.
"Well now I have to find another way to get to the place. Shitting hell," said Naked Tracy. She drank the blood of most of the people near her, and then snorted the Taj Mahal. Turns out it was made of drugs, so it actually did exactly what she wanted it to. Bolstered by the power of a fucking sick drug palace, Naked Tracy jumped all the way to Glasgow to go to that book restaurant. Drinking all that blood wasn't necessary but it made her look metal as fuck.
"Wow you look metal as fuck," said the waiter when she walked in.
"Thanks I just killed India," said Naked Tracy through all the blood that was still in her mouth. Also the drugs in there.
"That's a lot of people. You're insane," said the waiter.
"Hell yes I am," said Naked Tracy. "Now tell me why I fucking found this shit in my book!" She held up the menu. It was starting to melt because of direct contact with her skin but everything did that and the waiter understood because he was a good friend. He could probably help solve this mystery once and for all, Naked Tracy thought, grabbing a glass from his tray and chugging it. Hopefully that was cocaine or weed she'd drank. She was too high to actually tell. Also her tongue was gone. Weird.
"You have no tongue," said the waiter. "That's crazy. But I don't know why you found our menu in a book."
"You're a fucking liar," Naked Tracy whispered in his ear from the inside of his head. Then she licked his brain and came back out. It was cramped in there.
"That was the most horrific experience of my life," said the waiter. "You were just inside my skull."
"Fucking skippy," said Naked Tracy. "And I'll fuck your shit up if you don't stop lying."
"Fine fine fine fine fine fine fine fine fine fine fine fine fine fine fine" said the waiter. "I'm sorry bitch."
"You better fucking be." Naked Tracy was happy the waiter was talking normally. Nobody was trustworthy if they weren't calling you a bitch. At least, not when you were a bitch.
"Look fucker, the deal is, we had a bitch in here a while back steal a bunch of our shit. And he said something about spreading our seed around the world."
"Spreading your seed?" Naked Tracy asked. "What the fuck is a seed?"
"I don't fucking know," said the waiter, "but it was a hell of a shit to do. I guess the bitch decided to put a bunch of menus and shit in books and stores and shit."
"I'll track that fucker down!" Naked Tracy vowed with all her heart. And her mouth, which was still mostly full of blood and drugs but her tongue was starting to grow back. From the drugs.
"I wouldn't do that shit," the waiter warned. "That fucker was a dangerous fucker."
"Will you protect me?" Asked Naked Tracy, reaching up to the waiter's face and fluttering his eyelashes in what she thought was a way people flirted.
"What? No, you're a demented, violent drug addict," said the waiter.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA you're so sweet" said Naked Tracy. "I accept your offer. You can protect me."
"I said no," protested the waiter, but it was too late.
Naked Tracy, thinking how sweet it was of this fucking waiter who barely even knew her to offer to protect her, slid inside his skin and took his bones out to use them as armour or some shit. I don't know. She also smoked some vodka while she was at it.
She looked around through the waiter's eyeholes and saw that everyone in the restaurant was looking at her. They probably admired her or some shit. Maybe they wanted her autograph. She went around and signed everyone's steaks and shirts in their blood. It was awesome and a few people passed out because they loved it so much.
Naked Tracy called out to the demonic forces of Glasgow's underworld to aid her in her quest. There were none, but she was high enough to get in touch with something anyway. Probably an alien fucker or something.
"You must go to the kitchen," the alien fucker said. "The bitch you seek has left a mark."
Naked Tracy didn't like aliens so she ripped out its throat and then went into the kitchen, hoping to use the throat to whip the shit out of the bitch. She really loved shit whipping. Especially with throats.
When she got into the kitchen, she instantly pushed all the cooks into boiling pots. They all got third degree burns and pretty much died right there. The ones who didn't ended up in a lot of pain and they couldn't get better because Naked Tracy had gone to the hospital earlier and huffed all the anaesthetic. So they probably died too, but who cares. Also they blamed the murder on the waiter cause she was wearing his skin and bones.
Anyway after she'd boil murdered everyone she looked around. There was writing on the wall but she couldn't read. Stacy had been right about her. Naked Tracy coughed up the waiter's eyes and put them on over her own, hoping he could read. Turns out he could, for some reason, so she read the shit on the wall.
"Oh fuck," said Naked Tracy.
"You're all fuckers," the writing said. "Signed that bitch Naked Tracy. PS HI STACY!"
Naked Tracy was the fucker she was looking for all this time. She called Stacy to tell her—and to pass on that hello from her past self—but Stacy's number was disconnected. So that was fine.
"I'm fucking pissed as shit," said Naked Tracy. She had wasted her own time. Usually she wasted other people's time. So she took it out on everyone by blowing up the restaurant and snorting the bones of the waiter she'd killed.
It was sick as hell.