"Are you sure this is a good idea, Molls?" Bill asked, nervously tugging at his collar. "We're talking about a bunch of five-year-olds and their parents, explosions aren't exactly the best PR move." "Relax, Bill," Molly scoffed, fiddling with a set of lock picks. "We're not blowing anything up. Just the sprinklers. A good soaking will clear the party of any eager gift-grabbers, leaving the loot all ours." "Sprinklers? You think a piddly sprinkler system will stop a horde of sugar-crazed children?" "Piddly? You underestimate the power of a good, drenching sprinkler shower, Bill. Haven't you heard 'It's raining men'? Well, hopefully it won't be men, more like overinflated superheroes and pale ponies trampling each other. Gives us an opportunity to slip in while they're all soggy." Bill stared at her, his mouth agape. "You're not actually going to use that inflatable gorilla suit again, are you?" Molly grinned. "Not if I can help it, love. But a little distraction never hurts."