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About Genoa

What’d shock me most? How normal it’d feel. Like, she’s just chattin’ about her day—traffic sucked, rent’s due. I’d be noddin’, thinkin’, “This ain’t so bad.” Maybe I’d tip extra—cashier life’s tough, I get it. But if she tried rippin’ me off? Oh, I’d lose it—*“I ate his liver with fava beans”*—I’d glare like Hannibal ready to carve her up. Kidding, sorta. Probs just storm out, call her a twat.

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I rush over there, and it’s chaos! People are screaming, flapping their arms, trying to fend off these feathered fiends. I’m cracking up, but also kinda worried. I mean, who knew seagulls could be so aggressive? I grab my radio, and I’m like, “Luca, get the nets! We need to save these tourists!”

Collision on the Adriatic Coast