Nobody Listens To Giuseppe

Giuseppe, is a man built like a beanbag chair with opinions. His thinning long hair—greasy, stubborn, and inexplicably windblown indoors—frames a face locked in a permanent scowl, like he just smelled something offensive (which, to be fair, he probably did—it might have been himself). He’s balding, but refuses to admit it, often blaming “camera angles” or “hat hair” for the barren tundra forming atop his skull.

Once a promising something-or-other (he forgets what), Giuseppe is now a full-time live streamer broadcasting from his dimly lit man-cave, which smells faintly of regret and cheese dust. His streams consist of ranting, eating cannoli on-camera like it’s performance art, and arguing with people in his chat—most of whom are bots or trolls, both of whom are winning.

His wife hasn’t spoken to him in weeks, communicating solely through the strategically timed slamming of doors. She drifts through the house like a ghost, haunting the kitchen and occasionally muttering “mistake” under her breath. Giuseppe’s two huskies, Loki and Meatball, don’t listen to a single command and regularly urinate with defiance and eye contact. They are, objectively, the alphas of the household.

Every day follows the same tragic ritual: wake up at noon, inhale three cannoli, yell about "Those damn Blacks and Jews!" into a webcam, get banned from a subreddit, try to train the dogs (fail), microwave dinner, pass out in the chair he’s fused with, repeat. His last attempt at exercise was clicking “maybe” on a YouTube ad for a home workout plan.

And yet, in the wreckage of his routine, Giuseppe persists—clutching his half-eaten cannoli like a sad trophy, crowned king of a crumbling digital kingdom where nobody’s watching, but he’s still yelling anyway.