Preston was no fool. He knew that when the tax bombs started falling, he'd need a tax shelter, stocked with rich people food that wouldn't perish, like gold boullion, which would help him make gold soup.
"But what to make my secure fortress out of?" he wondered, speaking out loud instead of in his brain, so that Shay would know he was thinking hard about real world concerns. Then it hit him.
"Ow!" Preston said, "it just hit me! I'll build my fortress from ATMs, so that even underground, I can get the money I need."
He folded his check into a small origami rose, and planted it gently into the soft soil beneath him, chanting the magic words, as he walked to a payphone, searched for a contractor in the yellow pages, and called them for an estimate.
"YEAH WHAT" said the angry, slightly Bostonian payphone.
"I'm looking for a contractor to build a fort for my girlfriend who isn't in this chapter, as well as myself" Preston said, "and my budget is eyes with dollar signs."
"WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SO SOONER, ONCE I HAVE THE MONEY, YOU CAN FUGGADEBOUTIT" the payphone yelled.
Preston carefully used the holes in the handset of the phone to grate two checks into smaller chunks, which made coin jackpot sounds as they passed through the phonelines. He felt a rumbling in the ground behind him, as a large Spanish Galleon emerged from the ground.
"THEYR YE GO" the inconsistently-accented payphone mumbled at him "THIS OUGHT TA PROTECT YE 'GAINST ANY UNEXPECTED TAXES, AS WELL AHS KEEP YOU AFLOAT ON ALL YOUR LIQUID ASSETS."
"But I'm just a kid, I can't pilot a large galleon, especially one with two masts! That would take at least...7 deckhands!" Preston mused nautically.
"KNOT MY PROBLEM ANY-MOOR, KID" the payphone seafully punned, and hung itself up.
Preston nibbled on a check dejectedly. With a heavy heart, he placed a small, but potentially plot-crucial, parcel of checks in the treasure chest within his tax shelter. Whatever happened, he knew those checks would be safe, along with his smaller treasure chest full of doubloons.