“Number one?” Grigsby asked.
The nervous production assistant forced a smile, “Yes, we’re the highest rated show right now on television across the board.”
Grigsby grinned at Ira. “See?”
Ira nodded agreeably at his friend, “You’re right Grigs. But that was utter chaos. We cannot sustain this, contestants are going to quit before starting. The odds are stacked against them.”
“Wrong. There are no odds, it’s pure chance, that’s why the viewers love it.” Grigsby said.
“Yes, but how can we hedge against something terrible Grigs?”
“I have a plan,” Grigsby told the production assistant to leave the room, “Any calamities should be directed onto Joji. He’ll be our fall guy. That should weaken his resolve.”
Ryūki knocked twice and entered the door to the room. He looked haggard, sunken eyes and pale skin. He pulled up a stool and sat. Ira and Grigsby exchanged surprised glances.
“What the hell happened? You look like Charlie Sheen.” Grigsby asked.
“Joji happened. I’ve been watching him for 65 hours straight. I can’t find a single thing to use against him or proof that he’s in contact with the Yakuza.”
The room stayed silent for a while. The ships internal workings bellowed like a low playing organ. Someone was knocking on the door lightly. Grigsby motioned to Ira to open it, he saw the production assistants face peak in.
“Sir it’s the executives at Fox, they want to speak with you.”
“Are we being sued?” Grigsby asked.
“Um, one moment.” The production assistant whispered into the phone, nodded and looked at Grigsby, “No we’re not.”
“Good, I’ll take the call.” Grigsby took the phone and walked onto the bow of the ferry. Ira and Ryuki watched as he seemed to be laughing into the phone. Then he began jumping up and down like a child on Christmas morning.
Ira looked at Ryūki who just gave a weak shrug and nodded off into a quiet nap. Moments later Grigsby came in with a grin ear to ear.
“They love the show and want to give us more time slots. Soon we’ll dethrone those inept Kardashians.”