This is one of those stories that have no endings, but also an infinite number of endings. It has been purposefully left open to interpretation by the author for readers to determine for themselves what the ending should be. Like the ending of Inception, where our protagonist may be living in a dream, or perhaps a dream within a dream, we have to ask ourselves if there was a smell, or perhaps a finer aroma within the overbearing scent. We have to ask ourselves whether it was even a smell in the first place, or perhaps it was actually an unpalatable taste, or a taste within the taste or a smell within a taste within another smell. Or maybe it is really you, the reader, who really owns this pair of smelly, distasteful headphones and that the story is not complete because you have not completed your next course of action on your own pair of headphones to allow for this story to progress. And that you are actually mrscotchguy. That you have a split personality. And that, I, Sonido am also you, but a third personality that cannot withstand your complaints any longer to finish up the story, and that I am giving you a hint on what all of this means, and why the story is not finished. Because simply stated, the story cannot finish unless you release all inhibitions, and only then can you truly complete the story yourself. So listen to me. Listen to yourself.
So quit complaining and go listen to your smelly headphones.