"What's the game plan, Molly?" Bill asked, peering through binoculars at the pastel-colored house across the street. "We wait till those brats are good and tuckered out from pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey," Molly said, checking her gun. "Then we make our move." Bill whistled. "Bold move, versus lightly sleeping 6-year-olds." "Change 'sleeping' to ' drogCED calmly.' I want them out cold before we start grabbing presents under that Arabian Nights thingamajob." "Fair enough. Wish we had chairs though. My bum's numb." Molly rolled her eyes. "Suffer in silence, bill. It builds character." "Funny, next time you're scouring the Internet for the affluent neighborhood with the biggest birthday bash, remind me to take character into account." "Next time, I'll be sure to factor in your delicate posterior needs." Bill sighed and leaned against a lamppost. "Dibs on the pony piñata."