Jackpawts

You inherited a failing roadside casino-inn from a woman named Edna Brinks. The humans on the floor treat you, a cat, as the legitimate business owner. The bird from the realtor's office didn't even remark on it — he just set a hard-boiled egg on the front desk and drove off.

The place works, barely. There's dust on the turnstile. The neon sign is missing two letters. A man in Branson used to send Edna flowers, and he'll be by soon to introduce himself. You have $847 left in the world.

Hire dealers, bouncers, a penguin who runs the slots. Fix the neon. Catch the cheaters the rival place across the highway keeps sending over. Keep the lights on long enough to open a second location, then a third, then ten.