Walking down Walnut St. on my way to campus I stepped over a rigatoni noodle (awash in some sort of tomato sauce). Later, upon leaving the Language and Literature building (the Social Sciences Fortress) I nearly trod on a lone bowtie (possibly with garlic cream sauce).
The noodly carcasses of the respective Pastii were all that remained of what must have been an epic battle; all that remained as testament to the irreconcilable dichotomy of sauce preference.
In other news, a herd of trombones has been adopted by an unidentified neighbor. No word yet if their plans involve breeding with French horn flocks (which run wild in this part of the world).
Hensel, or weirder ---->