It's ironic that the single well-executed project in this Prohibition Era house was a bar.
This is in the basement. You can see that the guy who lived here before us was no champion at drywall or carpeting, but he must have put a lot of time into this piece. You can't see them in this picture, but there is a frosted plastic shadowbox overhead containing colored lights. Good Lord.
Bren and Miles got the thing dislodged...
...but it wasn't going anywhere. It's heavy, and the nearest openings are comparatively narrow.
So, I came home from my half-day at work, grabbed my trusty Wonderbar and Sledgehammer, and reduced the bar to this pile of rubble:
Hear me roar. I need a drink.