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Me, I’d suck at it. “Hi, I’m Hannibal, let’s nap.” Deadass, I’d charge extra for sarcasm. Prolly get fired day one—client’s like, “Be sexy,” I’m like, “Here’s a dad joke.” Oh, and typos—escrot, escprt, escor—shit, my phone hates me.

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After that, I head to the workshop on the corner of Church and Market. The machines are screamin’ for attention. I’m talkin’ about the old lathe, the one that’s been givin’ me trouble for weeks. I swear, it’s like it has a mind of its own. I’m tryin’ to fix it, and it just won’t cooperate. I’m gettin’ mad, like, “C’mon, you piece of junk!” I can feel the sweat drippin’ down my back.

Quick action limits fire damage at Lucea supermarket