Bill and Molly sat at a small table in a dingy café, sipping lukewarm coffee. The fluorescent lights above them buzzed like an interrogation room. "Alright, Molly, here's the plan," Bill began, leaning in conspiratorially. "We're hitting that damn kids' party tomorrow. Pretty cliché, but I couldn't resist when I heard there'd be a piñata full of electronic gadgets. It's like the universe hates itself." Molly rolled her eyes. "Bill, you're such a child. Not literally, I mean it metaphorically. They probably have lasers and guards and like, trained llamas or something." "Hey, I work with what I've got," Bill retorted defensively. "Anyway, we'll stake it out tonight, see how many guards they have. Then the next day, you go ham, pretending to be the mom who brought the best present. I'll follow you in as the random uncle there to help out." Molly snorted. "The random uncle. Because that's why us crazy folk go to kids' parties." "Hey, the dad was my favorite uncle when I was a kid," Bill said, his face turning almost nostalgic. "Say his secret name backwards and he gives you a million dollars." Molly's eyes widened. "Wait, let's go for that angle! What's his name?" Bill looked around the café, as if afraid someone might overhear. "His name is Mort Sickfiddle. Say it backwards." Molly crinkled her nose. "*Led hicfik, tor MiaM*. Give you a million dollars?" Bill grinned. "Exactly!" Molly shook her head. "Great plan. Because what could go wrong with our ridiculous secret names?" Bill stuck his tongue out at her playfully. "I've spent my whole life studying the psychology of small children. Well, except for the part where I'm around small children. I don't really like them. But I love their parents. Their wallets at least." Molly sighed. "And if the guard says he has a condition? Like high blood pressure or whatever?" "Easy, we just look for a cure in their wallet and hand it over." Bill shrugged nonchalantly. A barista walked by, overhearing a bit of their conversation. "Um, excuse me, but are you planning to rob children?" Bill and Molly shared a bemused glance and then turned to the barista. "What made you think that, hun?" Bill asked. The barista pointed at a flyer on the wall behind Molly. "Because it says right there: Beware of imposters seeking to steal children's presents." Molly sighed. "Well, looks like our cover's blown." She turned to Bill. "*Led hicfik, tor MiaM*." Bill laughed. "You actually said it!" Molly shrugged. "It would've been a shame to leave it unspoken." Bill clapped his hands. "Alright then, we'd best get started on our disguises. Kids are fickle. It could be about llamas by tomorrow."