Molly crouched beside the packing list, her eyes scanning the scribbled notes on the crumpled paper. Bill puffed on his cigar, exhaled a plume of smoke, and watched her. "Okay, so these are the presents?" Molly asked, not looking up. "Yep, the ones aimed at some sugar-addled six-year-olds." Bill rubbed his temples, wincing at the mention of children. "Anything that's wrapped is covered, I trust?" Molly asked, still scanning the list. "Checked," Bill replied distantly. He glared at the piping-hot wedding invitation, taking it back to his nightstand to burn. "So, stash the radar guns, water balloons, and A-frame fiesta egg launchers to the top. And license plates?" Molly moaned, overcome with amused dread. "All shot, three thrown away hopefully not again.”