Cannoli, My Only...

In a small, crumbling corner of Maryland that even Google Maps avoids, Giuseppe — a 50's something-year-old failed country singer, bitter live-streamer, and part-time grievance historian — spends his days ranting into a webcam about "how things used to be" and trying to record his long-awaited debut album in a shed that used to be a meth lab.

His wife Tonya, once a rodeo queen, now a silent chain-vaper with a permanent eye-roll, communicates almost entirely in sighs. She hasn't made eye contact with Giuseppe since Obama was in office.

Their two remaining huskies — Gino and Freedom — are feral, mostly ignore him, and seem to be plotting something. The third husky, Blaze, vanished last winter under "mysterious but probably not unrelated to Giuseppe's chili night" circumstances.

Amid this domestic despair and artistic delusion, Giuseppe finds one constant source of joy: the cannoli. Not just a cannoli. The cannoli. The one true love that never leaves, never judges, and never talks back (unless he's had too much boxed wine and starts hallucinating a little).

Inspired by this fried pastry of redemption, Giuseppe writes "Cannoli, My Only", a sweeping, overproduced ballad that he believes will finally launch him to country music stardom — despite its aggressively Italian dessert theme and complete lack of rhythm in the second verse.

As the song goes viral for all the wrong reasons (Reddit threads, TikToks, a meme where his face is Photoshopped onto a ravioli), Giuseppe spirals further into his cannoli-fueled delusion. He starts a podcast called “Pastry Prophecy,” insists cannoli are a metaphor for lost masculinity, and eventually tries to sue the Food Network for cultural erasure.

But when Tonya threatens to leave for a CrossFit instructor named Chad Chaddington, and the huskies stage a canine mutiny involving the neighbor’s chickens, Giuseppe must finally confront the bitter truth: the cannoli can’t love him back.

Or can it?

Cue a surreal final sequence where Giuseppe, wearing a bathrobe and a cowboy hat, performs “Cannoli, My Only” on an abandoned truck bed in the pouring rain — to an audience of zero, except one curious raccoon and a confused mailman.

Sometimes the sweetest thing in your life... is the one that clogs your arteries.