Mr. Monopoly sat in the backseat of his limo, heading to the infamous House on the Hill. He tapped his foot on the floor, and raised his martini to his lips, taking a small sip. He needed this venture to succeed. Else he wouldn't have an artificial inland boardwalk. Think of how many people it would attract. He saw the house in the distance gate wide open like the maw of a great beast, and took another sip of his drink.