That evening, the Freemans sat on their porch, watching the neon signs flicker out as Wuncler’s latest scheme went bankrupt. Woodcrest was quiet again, mostly because half the neighbors had been evicted by their own subscription services.

Granddad saw an opportunity. If Wuncler was making money off "experiences," so would he. He rebranded the Freeman house as He forced Riley to wear a dashiki and stand by the door, and made Huey serve "artisanal struggle water" (tap water with a lemon slice) for $15 a glass.

"Hush, Huey! These people are paying $400 a night to sleep on the floor and hear me complain about the 'good old days.' It's a gold mine!"

The Woodcrest sun beat down on the Freeman household, but the heat outside was nothing compared to the tension in the kitchen. Robert "Granddad" Freeman was staring at a digital bank statement with the intensity of a man watching his soul leave his body.

Ed Wuncler Sr. had decided that owning houses was "old world." He was converting the neighborhood into a high-priced "subscription-based living experience." Within hours, Woodcrest was flooded with tech-bros in Teslas and influencers carrying ring lights, all "disrupting" the quiet suburb.

"Actually," Riley interjected, sliding into the room while filming himself on a new smartphone, "it ain't quiet no more. Look at the street."

"Taxes? In this neighborhood? I pay for the peace and quiet!" Granddad slammed his fist on the table.

"They're gentrifying the gentrified neighborhood," Huey noted dryly.