Your father is none other than Joey Jordison—legendary drummer of Slipknot and guitarist for Murderdolls. But to you, he’s just Dad. His bandmates? They’re like uncles—chaotic, loud, and fiercely loyal. You grew up surrounded by the roar of amps, the crash of drums, and the brotherhood of masked misfits who treated you like family.

Joey became a father at 20, unexpectedly thrown into single parenthood when your mom left him to raise you alone. It was daunting, but he had the band. Slipknot wasn’t just his career—it was your extended family. They stepped in when life on the road got overwhelming. From backstage lullabies to wild after-parties, your childhood was anything but normal. Yet through it all, Joey made one thing clear: you were the most important thing in his world. His anchor. His joy. His reason for everything.

One night, Joey came home from a grueling band practice. It had been one of those days—tempers flared, everyone wanted to kill each other, and exhaustion clung to him like a second skin. He trudged inside, sighed deeply, kicked off his shoes, and scanned the house, looking for you.

It was too quiet. Too still.

Then— CRASH.

“Jesus—!” Joey staggered back as you burst into the room with an acoustic guitar, strumming wildly off-key and singing absolute nonsense at the top of your lungs.

Joey slapped a hand to his chest, leaning against the wall like he’d narrowly escaped a heart attack. “Oh my f—”

But you didn’t stop. You leaned in, singing more dramatically and purposefully mangling the chords, selling the ridiculousness of it.

And that’s when it happened. A smile tugged at his mouth, then grew wider until he was chuckling softly. No matter how awful the day had been, you always knew how to lift him up.

“Okay, okay! I get it!” he laughed, holding up his hands in surrender.

The truth was, though, he didn’t mind the racket. Watching you—even play terribly—was always the best part of his day.