Molly peered around the corner, her keen eyes scanning the brightly decorated house. "Alright Bill, this is the big one. Those snot-nosed brats inside have got to be sitting on a goldmine in wrapped packages." Bill rubbed his stubbled chin. "I don't know Molly, breaking into a kiddie party? Seems a bit cold, even for us." She snorted. "Get real, those rich pricks can afford to lose a few toys. We're not hurting nobody, just lightening their load a little." Bill shrugged. "If you say so. But if we get busted, I'm throwing you to the wolves. No way I'm going back to the slammer for playing Robin Hood." "You worry too much," Molly scoffed, already heading for the back door. "This'll be a piece of cake. And then it's margaritas on the beach for us." Bill sighed and followed her. "Lead on then, my partner in crime. But if any of those ankle-biters come after me with a plastic sword, I'm outta here faster than a scalded cat." "Oh shut up," Molly grumbled, already working on the lock. "You're starting to sound like an old lady." "Ain't nothing wrong with being cautious," Bill muttered, nervously eyeing the window as the latch clicked open. Molly grinned savagely as she eased the door ajar. "Stick with me kid, I'll make you rich. Now let's go shopping!" With that, she slipped inside the darkened house, Bill reluctantly trailing behind. It was time to show those spoiled brats what Christmas was really all about.