Molly: Bill, did you bring the lockpicking kit? Bill: Nah, Martha always keeps the door unlocked. Makes it easier for the drunk parents to stumble out. Molly: Right. And you managed to snag this hefty invite? How's that hand, by the way? Bill: Got a light scratch. Mostly I'm pissed that Arizona's mom broke off all the tips of my puns. Now what's left of my wit is dripping onto my card. Molly: We can fix that. Say..."Bill and Molly broke into your party and no one even noticed. They said the pasta was better at their place though -- or 'ave it being called to-the-mole-ya as they say." Bill: Hm, I suppose we should bring some of our own pasta. Don't want Martha's undercooked spaghetti making our getaway harder. Molly: Jane, who hosts these parties, can potentially shoot laser beams at us if we...let's just avoid taking anything from the table. Can we agree on that? I'm not sure my health plan will cover laser-induced ulcers. Bill: Knock knock. Molly: Okay, maybe a tiny slice of preferred cake, for sentimentality only. Bill: I'm behind you all the way on this! Let's move forward, in no pun-intended-haste.