"Alright, so the party is at noon on Saturday?" Molly asked, studying the floor plan of the house. "That's right. And it's going to be a massacre of color and sugar," Bill replied, leaning back in his chair. "A massacre? It's just a kid's birthday party, Bill." "Geez, you've never been to one of those things. It's a war zone. Glitter, cake, screaming kids high on punch..." "We can handle it. Now, the challenge here will be the gifts." Molly pointed to the playroom on the plan. "That's where the mother lode is. But how do we get to it?" "I've thought about that. We come in through the backyard just before noon, dresses as caterers - you know, bow ties, silly hats, the works." "And then?" "Then we politely offer to help set up the food table. Once that's up, we excuse ourselves, and voila, we're in the house and headed to the loot." "That could work. And then what, dress up as bouncy clowns and escape with presents?" "Close... but moldy old boxing experience, we hire some clowns. I've got some guy from the short. He's got ounces and likes the peppermint schnapper." "It's schnapphire, Bill. Can he deliver?" "Yep. He's got a dozen waiting ben 'round the eyes. All we have to do is make a hollow in the sock and we're golden."