[Ding!]
[1 Hijack Point Has Been Consumed]
Joe turned and stood facing the camera.
At the control desk, the producer slapped a palm to his forehead. "What the fuck… what is this old man gonna do now?" he muttered, half-panicked.
Meanwhile, Caleb nearly jumped out of his seat—not in shock, but in satisfaction, after typing something he thought was absolutely insane.
In the studio, Joe took a deep breath. With full, unshakable confidence, he reached for his belt buckle, then his zipper, and—without hesitation—pulled it down.
The metallic clink echoed through his mic, making several crew members stiffen.
Then he reached in and grabbed his limp, disgusting private dull blade.
Without a hint of shame, Joe began spinning it with his right hand—fast—forming circles like a helicopter rotor.
His lips curled into a smile, eyes glittering.
