Molly peered through the scope of her sniper rifle, eyeing the luxuriant skyscraper across the way. Pajama-party capitalists, she muttered. "Mark my words, Bill. It'll be a itsy-bitsy pirate loot for the taking." Bill, engrossed in a pocket video game, tore his eyes away to reply. "You're the boss, Chief. Just say when." Molly grunted, training her sights on a window where a princess cake was being carried by a uniformed waiter. She licked her lips. "The real plunder? Those Buccaneers are hoarding loot from the deep pockets of parents, Bill. And it's our gold to steal." Bill swallowed, adjusting his eye patch. "Arrr. I'm in." He checked his watch. "X marks check the spot at midnight?" Molly nodded, exiting the scope and setting the rifle aside. "Oh, break out the grog and the crew. It'll be a tale of a heist to steal from the kiddies." Bill grinned, slapping Molly on the back with a chuckle. "Mum always did say we'd end up in the brig someday. Or Disney." He adjusted his pirate hat jauntily. "Almost syphon the timepieces. It's party time, Midship Mol." They nodded to each other, setting off down the alley to gear up. The clock was ticking. And the pirate's code dictates: Thou shalt not pass up a loot of presents aimed at l ittle ones. The present-poaching was nigh upon them.