Molly sipped her green-tinctured lemonade as she surveyed the festering mess in front of her. Bill rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes darting out onto the hall decorated with plastic palm trees and streamers. "Five years of planning, and we still can't even hide the presents," Bill muttered under his breath. Molly, a blonde in a faded prom dress, chuckled. "You think it's all about the stash, don't you?" she taunted. The plan was hinged on sedate the children, empty the chairs, and slip in, grab the booty, and slip out. Easy peasy. Molly raised an eyebrow. "You ever think the parents will notice if we're gone for 10 seconds, just quietly slide out with nothing?" She snorted. Bill grinned. "Leave out a trail. Make it a little too hard. You know how the parents handle their own kids' trick-or-treaters." "Too much sugar," Molly counter'd. "They'll laugh it off no matter what shape the crime scene looks." "Then they'll let their kids come back again," Bill said, rolling his eyes.