Darkness cloaked the slumbering suburb, the only sound coming from the occasional hooting of an owl or the incessant barking of a neighbor's dog. Molly flicked on her flashlight, its beam cutting through the shadows as she crept along the sidewalk. The beam fell upon a house, and she froze, gathering herself before backing away and melding back into the night. "You got a marker on it?" she whispered to Bill. "Got a fat marker on it. What a shitshow, this party to break into though. Think you can handle a bunch of screaming rug rats?" Molly pursed her lips, walking quietly onto the lawn. "Child's play. I've dealt with scarier than screaming kids before, remember?" "Oh yeah. Drunk, belligerent loggers. Now those were some scary bastards." Bill smirked as he kept his eyes on the house. "I was laughing so hard I thought I would bust a gallon of piss. Oh man, that time in the outhouse, fireball in the can..." Molly rolled her eyes, still keeping an ear out for sounds from inside. "The party's still going to be going strong for another few hours. We gotta wait for it to die down. Then I'll go in solo nocturnally from the front. Get the presents fast, get the fugger out." "Sounds good. You got my trust in you." Bill glanced around, a hoot owl making him scan the rooftops. "Keep an eye out for the boogeyman. Wonder if he's watching us now." "I prefer to think of you as head of the boogeyman's mop-up crew, gee-zus. Anyone ever tell you that you look like a turkey?" She snorted. "Go on and grab that rope for me will you?" "Anything for you my man!" Bill replied, heading off to a nearby tree while she turned her flashlight towards the window. Peering through the blinds, she could see a bobble sort of balloon pushing against the ceiling. "That's the sofa. Okay. Let's cause a skitch storm!" Bill leaned back into her line of sight. "Skitish what?" "Storm. Skitish. Like when the King of England wet himself on the red carpet after the pearly gates of cocaine exploded in his hands. Yeah, that's it." She took out her shaving cream can and began sneezing and snorting. "Ah-choo! Poor fellow, his life's work in tatters! In tatters I tell you!" "Boss, you've been up a little too long. I got the frickin rope. Can I go now, mom?" "Dammit Andy, I was fucking with you!" Molly rubbed her eyes, thoroughly baffled. "Gotcha, but hey! I'm Andy...and pretty fucking handy at climbing trees like the grandma of all squirrels!" Bill brandished the rope. "Well in that case, let's get those presents!" Molly pulled a pack of spray paint and quickly covered the masked windows.