Whats the hurry

Music seems to be one thing that has at least one more dimension thatn the universe we live in. A magical transport out of existence and back.

Maybe I should revist my pointless stories with inane morals. That used to be fun. So, here goes:

There was once a pangolin who lived in a penthouse atop a skyscraper in Chicago. As the morning flights would approach O'Hare, they would veer dangerously close to her apartment, lost in the sticky clouds that obscure the winter sky in the windy city. One day, the pangolin had a scarecrow installed outside her window, and no planes bothered her anymore. However, the scarecrow scared the bejeezus out of her one night as she was ambling towards the kitchen for a midnight snack and she nearly peed her pants.

Moral of the story: If it says "Budget Gourmet" on the cover, dont expect much of a meal; you might enjoy the taste of the cardboard that it was packed in more than the pasta itself.