[ WP ] A story where the protagonist is a pretty decent individual by most accounts , but is DESPISED by the narrator .

Stacy rolled her eyes as the phone rang a fourth time. Finally, she picked it up and swiped to accept the unknown number. On the other end of the phone, our hero— Dave. 
 
 Dave was 32 ( though to look at him, you ’ d say maybe a rough 37 ), and teetering on a certain BMI line ( I won ’ t say which, but suffice it to say the man probably wolfed three packs of Swedish Fish flavored Oreos this morning ). He ’ s married to a lovely little lady ( Suzy, gorgeous gal, by all accounts ) he met in college ( Oberlin, Jesus… ), and works here at the call center for a few night shifts a week to pull in some extra money for his bouncing new baby boy, Dave Jr. ( very creative, Dave ). 
 
 “ Hello there, I ’ m Dave, with Marketing Integration strategies, and— “ 
 
 He had hardly gotten through the first diligent sentence of his script before Stacy, like a champ, hung up on him. I mean who wouldn ’ t? It ’ s— his— come on, he just— GOD, even over the phone, just his fucking voice sounds boring! I mean Jesus on a fucking flatbread, he ’ s literally just going to grow old and die in a series of menial fucking jobs as his fat fucking head balds ever more quickly until his son can see his own fat fucking chip-off-the-block fucking face in it like a goddamn mirror of shame! Why are we even fucking talking about him?! There ’ s nothing here! Go away! What are you doing wasting your life reading about fucking Daaaave?!
