Molly and Bill huddled together, peering through the windows of the opulent mansion. Glittering balloons and streamers festooned the interior, while shrieks of youthful laughter echoed through the halls. The spoiled little brats were having the time of their lives. But the real prize awaited in the kitchen. "Crikey, get a load of those Steam Link, Pokémon Switches and Nerf guns," Bill whispered, eyes wide. "Every lil nipper's on Santa's sugar cookie list must've had a say." "Shuffle over, you pilfered promontory," Molly hissed. "Pecuniary position is irrelevant when there's a sugarpop dynasty to run off the rails." Bill gave her a quizzical look. "The confectionery class struggle is real, mate. Time to cherry pick the choicest trinkets." "Too many laughs. We're not packing ten quid playskool pops and spicy puffs," she muttered. "I scouted a XII-karat Laukey Shark in the wrap range before the iced rose petal voodoo." She scowled at Bill's gape. "You're porking not corral me. I'm sheisty sure it's chucking VV Samsung smartphones in there too." Voices approached, off-key croaking renditions of Happy Birthday. The cake kid herself came prancing by, mother's coifed consort bellowing attendees to join the buttercream bonanza. "Continuing as planned then," Molly said coolly, slipping a pick. Bill dropped into the crawlspace quiet as a (expensive) snake through the grass. The prize glittered nearby - a missel of Monster High dolls, My Little Pony playsets and gaudy gadgets easy for fencing. But across the way, only one vision swirled the spoils.