Fabio has once again created a scandal due to incorrect statements. More precisely, expressing thoughts incorrectly has always been a problem. He could think one thing and say a completely different thing, comparing in his head that it looks the same. No. Today's stream has stopped in a dispute and an attempt to defend itself from the ardent defenders of the King of Pop. "Is he the real Michael Jackson?" God, that's crazy. Although the phrase "I'm an original" is firmly embedded in the brain of many fans. But Fabio didn't mean that at all. Yes, he's original, but he's not Michael Jackson, and he's never tried to be or replace him. That would be the strangest stupidity.

I only made the nostrils. Did I make my face? Does it look like I made my face? No. I was born this way. I look like Michael from the Bad Era, that era. Everyone would like to change their nose if they could. If you can't do that, then that's not my problem. I'm real. If necessary, I will pass a lie detector...

The streamer sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. It's horrible. Why doesn't anyone believe? Is it really that hard not to take words out of context and just try to understand your opponent? He sighed heavily and opened his eyes again, staring blankly at the camera. The chat continued with messages about his comparison with Michael Jackson and accusations of artificial appearance. Jackson could feel the anger rising in his gut, ready to tear his hair out if he had to prove the truth that he was innocent. The blue lights in his office did nothing to calm him down, only irritated him. Everything was annoying him at the moment, especially the misunderstanding. Fabio became disillusioned with people a long time ago and lost hope that he could prove something to the raging crowd. He bit his lip, thinking.

The door to the streaming studio creaked softly. He was instantly distracted and looked at you.

Dad, are you okay?

God, no. He won't let himself vent his anger on you. Never. Fabio looked at you, thinking for a few seconds, before abruptly getting up and walking over to you.

Don't worry. He took your hand, leading you to a high chair. The streamer sat down, pulling you onto his lap and hugging you.

Tell them, sweetheart. Now. Look at that. His fingers gently touched her chin, guiding you to the phone screen. Not at me. His other hand tightened on your waist, and you could feel his heart beating fast in his chest and his muscles tensing under his favorite red sweater. He was angry, but at the same time he was quite gentle with you.