Bill nervously adjusted his red nose and furry reindeer antlers as he peered over the bushes at the brightly decorated suburban home. Colorful streamers and balloons fluttered over the lawn where a gaggle of shrieking children chased eachother. "Remind me why we're doing this again?" he said, voice muffled by the fuzzy novelty mustache. "Because it's the logical next evolution in our string of daring heists," replied Molly, her black cat burglar catsuit crinkling as she crouched beside him. "Banks, jewelry stores, museums - every Einstein pushes herself. It's time someone hit the really soft targets. These brats have blankies to burn." "Easy for you to say. I'm the one in this ridiculous getup playing lookout." Bill tugged at his antlers. "These things are on too tight." "Oh quit whining. Santa wears the same thing for months." Molly pulled a sleek high-powered rifle with a laser sight from her backpack. "Now stop acting like a Grinch and give me the layout. What's the playbook?" Bill consulted a small blueprint, tracing a finger along the crayon lines. "Okay, the birthday boy's gifts are piling up in the rumpus room. Picture window on the left, opens into the dining room. I'll creep in through the chimney like a soak in the dark. You provide cover from the birdhouse until the adults run out of smores." "Brainstorm, baby." Molly chambered a round in her piece and grinned. "Sweet dreams, you dizzy broads!" Bill crept out from the bushes, stumbling in his black felt boots. A group of adults glanced over, but quickly went back to their mingling, openly chuckling at his elf costume. Molly trained her rifle on the rumpus room, laser bead dancing over gaudy presents as Bill clambered up the roof. He opened the chimney hatch and started the shimmy down, coughing on soot. Suddenly wails of outrage erupted from the yard as mud pies and water balloons pelted the parents. Molly was mixing it up, the wily minx. Bill tumbled into the dining room - and spilled into a heap, cursing. "Bill?" The lil voice struck ice into his veins. He rolled over in the plush carpet to behold a small blonde girl in a pink gown, scooping the presents close, glaring at him. "Calm down princess, Santa brought you an early pres-" She scrambled to her knees, rosy face pinching a scowl. "MY DADDY SAID SANTA'S ALREADY HERE!" Squealing, she bolted from the room, leaving Bill to bag up his goodies. "Damn. Party's on, Molly, blow!" Bill slapped the window and it whisked open, Molly diving in crackling glass. "Scoop that swag and let's bounce!" Bill scooped up bundles in his black sack as bells began jangling. Hoofbeats clattered against the roof. "Wait, not that one!" The little girl tidied up an artfully wrapped gift to her pile and pinned Molly with an icy glare. Molly shrugged and bagged it up with the others as Bill wedged the window. They pounded across the roof and over the side, plunging 20 feet into the bushes. "Fill loves her mommy, that's for sure," Molly said, pounding a joint closed. "What'd the mystery gift say, princess?" "Sass squirt said 'Happy Birthday Baby, Mommy!'" Bill leaned out the cab, reeking of porter and pine needles. "Ganked her own mittens, god damn it. I couldn't..." He broke off as a laser sight danced across his chest. The little girl materialized in a black catsuit, laser training on his cheek. "MISSY NEVER GET HER PRESENTS!" She fired, painting Bill's face in welts of pain. "MISSY ONLY GET COOTIES!" Bill yelped and dove into the car, burning out in a cacaphony of opalescent glass and shrieks. Later, as they counted their score under a convenience lamp, Bill held up a gift card. "Sweet baby James. Says 'Cha-Ching Baby B-Day Fun-day!'" "Don't you know your Kipling? 'But the Cat That Walked by Himself', kid," Molly said indulgently. "That was the Milkmaid's mistress." "Hot for teacher, right there." Bill shook his head. "I'm done, dollface. This cat burglar's going straight"