"I was thinking we could wait until people let their kids blow out those silly candles," said Bill, as he glanced at Molly across the empty pizza box on the card table. "A lot less people around." "I don't know, I don't want to deal with 10 years worth of birthday parties," said Molly, absentmindedly poking the melted cheese strings at the top. "But I guess into the act we must go." It was the three-fifteen in the morning and far too early for birthdays. Despite the situation at hand, Molly and Bill were a couple of professional criminals who typically saw their big scores later in the month and likely not into children's affairs, but they were currently out of money and a friend back in their unit informed them of the dilemma what happens to be awfully close, so the two couldn't look this one gift horse in the mouth. As the boys' eyes light up, you can see their minds already going where no two fine minds should go. The trail of little popsicle drops on the livingroom floor had seemingly laid out itself so well for them. No sooner did the first drop hit the tablecloth when the mouths literally wide with joy, in anticipation for what the kids might give them did a voice at the front door clip the whole felony-to-life railroad in a dreamland voice call, "Happy Birthday, Brandon!" I don't need to remind you that the target is off-limits to blow out those old candles, but what kind of thieves even exist that they wait for the birthday child like who they are all trooping back in. Upon being rudely awakened from this alluring daze, Molly's eyes had Henry Ford's gaze as she shut the door on the chocolate chip cookie lady pulling out the giant cake. "I remember my childhood," Bill muttered, picking bits of cake batter from his teeth. "And we are going to rob these little monsters blind." They backward-tried to recreate the bloodydroping trail just before another. "With any luck, we'll get in and out before Jimmy starts Beethoven." Their boss Dale had checked all the alarms and traps; they were set to go at two-fifty AM and the sloppy mess had wound around the kitchen window by the time Jimmy couldn't get it to fit. "Ah, sod it."