Molly and Bill huddled in their rusted sedan, parked inconspicuously outside a suburban house decked with balloons and streamers. The duo watched as a clown juggled his way up the path, followed by a parade of tiny partygoers. "Bill," Molly said, not taking her eyes off the spectacle, "are you sure about this? Stealing from kids?" Bill shrugged, flipping through his notebook of plans. "It's not like we're taking their puppies, Mol. Just a bunch of toys they'll forget about in a week." Molly raised an eyebrow. "You clearly haven't met many six-year-olds." "Relax," Bill grinned, "We're the heroes here. Think of us as... gift re-distributors." Molly choked on a laugh. "Re-distributors? You're like the Robin Hood of plastic junk." "Exactly!" Bill pointed at her, triumphant. "Besides, these things are probably made in some sweatshop. We're doing the world a favor." Molly rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smirk. "Alright, let's get this over with. But if one kid cries, you're explaining it to Santa."