"So, you've got the troops lined up?", Molly asked, taking a long drag from her cigarette. "The usual crew plus the new girl, right?" Bill nodded, making a few final adjustments to his false mustache in the worn vanity mirror. "Yep, the Glee Club is primed and ready. Littlefunctionary asses ready to get flashed. The new recruit, Evelyn, seems sharp too. Kept her cool when I tested her with the final countdown - and it's a doozy this time." Molly reached over and playfully tweaked Bill's new nose. "Careful, you'll get yourself shook up if you keep denying yourself all that cash. Let's face it - no Linda Blair projectile vomiting is worth that kind of work." "Hey, just standing by my artistic principles, Molls. I agreed to this shindig just to make you happy." "Hah! My arctic expanse of a woo-hoo remains unconvinced. Ring the curtain bell, cap'n - we got a theatre to rob." As they pulled up to the sprawling estate, Molly and Bill both affixed their rescinded vacuums and Journey concert t-shirts before exiting the van. Bill took the lead, his arms laden with fake diagrams and highly-specific questions for the security guard. "Evening, sir - I'm Billy Ray Lotus, set consultant with Chick-n-Flick Vacation Oddities - we're here to finalize the layout for tomorrow's big reveal! County has some...rather strict regulations about indoor miniature golfing." Inside, Molly coasted through the grand foyer toward the bustling children's party. A gaggle of untended tweens were running amok - digging into cake, knocking over punch, and fighting over toy jewelry. Molly sidled up and quickly exchanged earrings with one girl, distracting her with a shiny. Others were just as easily singled out with jujubes and bouncing balls. "Distracted iss'ettroubledfallingassleep", Molly thought smugly. Bill rejoined her, now dressed as a parade float-clad clown, his gloves concealing a set of lock-picking tools. The two exchanged a quick nod before gliding toward the wrapping station, where two Bozos were wrapping presents at a breakneck pace. "All glass-wrapped," Molly whispered as she grabbed the nearest gift. "I hope the little shits cut their mouths on the ribbon." "Don't fall in there - it'll hurt like a bitch," Bill added knowingly. They quickly unloaded the loot into the laundry baskets they'd brought along, each opening and swapping out the contents for rocks. Just then, a deep voice rang out - "Stop in the name of securityzem!" It was the head Bozo, fleshy mass situated arms akimbo, a steely glint in his eye. Molly froze, her resolve crumbling. Bill whipped out a huge set of keys and began fumbling with the nearest door: "You take the paintballs, I'll get the kid - let's go!" The chase was on - tiny feet and clown feet hot on the heels of Mary Janes and brogues. But Molly and Bill managed not only to escape the esteemed Chucklesport, but to load up every last gift from the town's children into the getaway van...which led to perhaps the oddest morality tale in history. "Did you get the money shot?", Molly asked Bill, referring to the picture they'd taken of Evelyn proudly posing with the loot. " front page of The Bugle tomorrow - 'Youths Rob Children's Party, Steal All Toys'," Bill replied. "Funny story, but we're going to be hunted for the rest of our days." Molly lit a cigarette - tilted her head back in the fading sunset. "That we are, old chum. But we've got the cash, and the decade-long planning is finally at an end. Now, let me have your jacket - I'm freezing." "You're the boss, Molls", Bill replied, handing over his coat. "Just don't go to sleep this time. I'm the one who patched up these hands, remember?"|+|im_end|>