"Alright, here's the plan," Bill said, pacing around their small planning room. Colorful posters of crime films and heist capers covered the walls. "We show up to the party, Molly, dressed as a fireman and a nurse. Not hard since it's a kid's birthday." He twirled his fingers through the thick handlebar mustache slapped on top his upper lip. "Throw up some fake work equipment, you know, bolt cutters, crow bars, flash lights, flares. Old timers." Molly, perched on an office chair, leaned closer to Bill's moving silhouette. Her eyes lit under her feathered nurses cap. "The powder room. The giggle room, he said. Fireman never turns down a peek at the sweets." "Correct." He spun to her, smile deep as a cavern. "Title thief at play." Molly giggled, nodded. "Meanwhile, I'll greet the other parents and make friendly small talk, you know, 'ooooh nice party, I love her dress!' That sort of stuff while I plant the key I borrowed from the neighbor." "The Cleveland's. Now that was a brain wave, one of mine. No lock ever picked, just using the neighbors key to unlock the side door. Clean, undetected." "Dragging all the gifts out into your truck, Bill. Under his original down coat. Now you're in a white guy's sleeveless monster truck jacket. Try to stay awake." She covered her mouth, her bark laugh. "Well, yes." He pointed to his head, eyes still focused on her. "Call it premeditated." "Alright. Truck door locked behind you, I give the booming all clear." Her head plotted out the action, eyes focused on ceiling tiles. "By now the big cake comes in, kids with their giddy twirls, right as I demand they open NOW the fire trucks muffler exhaust and help me set those lovely dimming (noice.)" A grin split her face, hugging her cheeks out to her ears. "Poof. We're the stories heroes. The exhausted parents thank us for exterminating the household from any festive in-depth molls."