Molly stood in front of a large, hastily scrawled map, her eyes scanning the crude drawings of the house. "Come on, Bill, you know we can do this. We've been casing the joint for weeks." She pulled out a bright pink rubber chicken from her backpack and held it up, grinning at him. Bill chuckled, tracing a finger over the outline of the residence. "Yeah, I thought that was gonna be a tough one. But you're the genius, Molly. How'd you always know?" "Not my expertise, Bill," she retorted, tucking the rubber chicken back in. "I just knew the drill. Case in point: we steal the presents, not the kitchen sink." Bill snorted. "The kitchen sink? Come on, get serious. It's a Christmas party, not a bathroom cleaning scheme. We're talking presents for kids, not all-day laundry loads." Molly shrugged, eyes still on the map. "You just have to trust me, okay? I've got a guy on the inside who's guaranteeing we can get in undetected. And what if we're not? What if, like, the parents catch us and throw us in jail or something?" Bill smirked. "Worst-case scenario, at least we'll have a good excuse to have a Christmas party again next year and celebrate with a fake crime spree instead." Molly shot back, a twinkle in her eye. "You're such a card, Bill." They stood there for a moment, holding the map and eyeing the house. The backyard was a mess of colorful bunting and twinkling lights, surrounded by a sea of screaming children. "Okay, okay, let's get down to business," Bill said, holding up the maps. They were supposed to sneak in under the cover of darkness, avoid the noise, and make their way to the living room. They had identified a few hiding spots, set up a switchblade, and constructed a distraction – a fake display of Christmas lights. Molly handed Bill a wad of cash. "You good to nail it, man?" Bill grinned, tucking into his pocket. "Nailed it for this scenario alone?" "Well, you're the one who came up with the whole heist plan," Molly retorted. "Hey, that's what I said. And you're what they pay me for, remember? Presents, people. Luxury brands. That's what gets the girl." They worked the perimeter, carefully avoiding the twinkling lights as they snuck past the locked front door. The house was empty, but they'd disabled the lock hidden in the closet. Molly produced a key from her pocket and unlocked the front door, and that was it, they were inside. The living room was a mess of presents, wrapping paper, and discarded candy. Bill's eyes scanned the room, spots his target. "Okay, we see the prize. It's about here. Grab everything and run." Together, they crept around the room, grabbing gifts, stuffing strings of presents, and handing out suspicious packages wrapped in cloth. They had made this work. But as they loaded everything into a duffel bag, Bill slipped on a piece of wrapping paper. Molly burst out laughing. "Not like that, buddy," she chuckled, holding back tears. Bill stood tall, arms awkwardly wedged in a rolled-up paper bag, pretending to be injured, a contrived, inept, festive pose.