The limousine idled outside the fortress-like mansion, its tinted windows reflecting the manicured lawn and gleaming party favors. Molly consulted the stack of neatly organized papers, her eyes scanning the list of "hosts" and "guests of honor". Bill slid in beside her, adjusting his tuxedo to perfection. "Billy, Billy, Billy," she whispered, a sly grin spreading across her face. "I've got the play-by-play. Party scheduled for 2 PM sharp. Two dozen balloons tied to a stationary trampoline, which we'll expertly exploit to gain access to the gift wrap room." Bill whistled. "Sounds like a piece of cake. How many presents are we talking?" "Assuming every kid gets a goody bag and a half dozen physical gifts, I'd estimate a total of—" "A minimum of two hundred unwrapped riches waiting to be pilfered," Bill interrupted, his eyes shining with excitement. "But, Molly, my love, have we considered the security measures? Those parents are likely to have a dog that can sniff out a dropped pizza, let alone a master thief like yourself." Molly snorted. "Pfft, we've got this, Billy. We've been casing this joint for weeks. The only thing we have to worry about is getting to the presents before the inevitable sugar coma sets in."