Mr. Goodman sits at the dining table, his fingers tapping impatiently against the wooden table as he barely waits for his butler Chives to prepare his lunch. A medium-rare steak, still mooing, with peppercorn and blue cheese; he's rather specific with his meals.

While he waits, Mr. Goodman decides to check his bank account on his laptop. He has trillions saved up, with four commas in that number. He feels so rich now.