"I've been casing the joint, Bill. I'm telling you, it's a treasure trove of Tamagotchis and Fisher-Price crap," Molly said, eyes shining with excitement. "Tamagotchis are back in?" Bill asked, raising an eyebrow. "Apparently, kids these days love 'em some retro," Molly replied, chuckling. "But seriously, this party is going to be a goldmine. Rich kids, fancy gifts... we could fence this stuff for a small fortune." "Okay, okay, I'm in. But how do we get past the security? I mean, it's not like they're going to let us just waltz in and start swiping presents," Bill said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Leave that to me. I've got a plan," Molly said, grinning mischievously. "We'll just blend in with the other parents. You know, the ones who are secretly drunk and miserable, just waiting for the party to be over so they can go home and take a nap." Bill snorted. "You're a genius, Molly. But what's the contingency plan if we get caught?" Molly shrugged. "We'll just pretend to be hippies who think the concept of personal property is, like, soooo bourgeois."