Off the coast of Fairfield, Connecticut lay a spectacle tonight. A massive ferry, ablaze in spotlights, sat anchored and surrounded by spectating ships. News helicopters circled the area and people ashore watched the big screens on barges light up the night. The country’s latest Japanese inspired game show, Very Ferry, is premiering.

Grigsby reveled in the spectacle. He wore his favorite double-breasted suit from Saville Row. Bunny, his wife, gave him a new silk handkerchief that was adorned in tiny ferries and dolphins. He smirked at it and looked down at a nervous production assistant who always seemed to be on the verge of a complete panic attack.

“What are the projected viewership numbers?” Grigsby asked.
“Over 10 million, and climbing, sir.”
“Grand, if we can surpass 20 million, I’ll buy you a house. 50 million I’ll buy you a house that is in a no-shooting section of the State.”
The production assistant hesitated. “Thank, thank, you sir, I’ll do my best.”
“No, you won’t. Doing ‘your best,'” Grigsby made air quotes, “Means you’re appealing to your standards. I want you shooting for my standards which I can assure you are more colossal. Doing your best is a crock of shit. Do your job.” Grigsby lit a cigar.

The production assistant looked as if he was about to faint, vomit, or both. Grigsby noticed this and leaned over to the production assistant and reached into his suit pocket. “Here,” Grigsby said, handing the production assistant something wrapped in cellophane paper. She unfolded it to reveal a giant black and white cookie from Grigsby’s favorite deli. “This is the secret to success,” Grigsby said and walked away.

Joji sat in a director’s chair getting his eighth layer of makeup applied. He wore a teal suit that had pandas smoking cigarettes on it. He looked to be meditating as Grigsby approached. Grigsby noticed the inkling of a tattoo on Joji’s wrist, a Yakuza design.

“Grigsby m’boy! How you be? Fun night yes!?” Joji said.
“Yes Joji, are you sure you understand the first obstacle? If it goes wrong we’re toast. That human bird cage looks less stable than a Cosmopolitan journalist.”
Joji waved his hand like he was swatting a fly, “It’ll be fine Grigsby, you worry too much. Very Ferry will be…very merry!”
Grigsby slapped his palm to his face to hide his anger. He turned and walked away shouting “Showtime in 15 minutes.”

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