Rich Uncle Pennybags Goes to the Store

"London?" asked Joe, confused.  He was tired of walking and tired of the fog.

"No, my friend!" said the monocled man, who was wearing a black tuxedo and top hat,
"You've wandered into the Endless Parking Lot of Ukk, my good man!  Don't you see the spaces painted everywhere on the ground, which is asphalt?  Haven't you noticed the faint glow of the florescent lights, the eerie shadows of the light poles?  Don't you hear a faint squealing of tires far off in the distance?"

Joe at once noticed all these details around him in the haze, though he could have sworn they had not JUST been there the second before the strange man appeared.

"The Endless Parking Lot of Uh... What? Who are you?"  Joe asked.

The monocled man chuckled, pulling out from his inside pocket a wad of comically oversized five hundred dollar bills in a gold money clip.

Joe noticed then that the bills were not real currency.  In fact, they were...

"This should explain everything," said the man, smiling sadly and handing the whole wad to Joe.  "My name is Pennybags.  Richard U. Pennybags.  My friends call me Rupert.  Would you like a ride to the store?"

 Joe did not notice, but next to the man there suddenly appeared what seemed a giant game piece shaped like an old 1930's car.

"The store..." Joe said absently, inspecting the money.  Yep.  It was oversized Monopoly money.  Joe's gaze snapped back to the man's face as the thought clicked.  "You're the old man from the game? The Monopoly mascot?  Rich Uncle Pennybags?  Now I know I am dreaming!  Or maybe still tripping, or maybe both.  Wait, what store?"

"I went to the store, late last night," said Richard, "I went to the store."

"If going to the store will get me outta this void, let's go." muttered Joe.

"Climb in, then, if you will," said Rich Uncle Pennybags, and jumped in the driver's seat of the game piece.  It roared into life and an old a.m. radio began emitting the strains of an old big band slow dance number.   Joe climbed into the passenger seat and shook his head. He hoped this wouldn't make things worse.  Pennybags grinded the gearshift and they shot off like a bullet, veering crazily between lightposts and plowing through occasional shopping carts.