Outside, Rooney and Vernon were giving the Wet Bandits dubious looks. "And you're absolutely sure they're here?" the principal asked them.

"Trust us, Eddie, when was the last time we steered ya wrong?" Harry posed. Rooney looked unwilling to take this at heart, but nodded to Vernon, saying, "Let's take them down, then, Richard." Vernon nodded back, and the four men started up the driveway toward the McCallisters' front door. Vernon rang the bell. "Okay everyone, this is Superintendent Vernon," he announced, "If you're in there, come out now!" After about a minute of no response from inside, Rooney took over and started pounding on the door. "You heard the superintendent, open up!" he bellowed, "We're not leaving until you come out!"

Inside, Kevin held his breath. It was almost time to spring the plan into action. "Ready one," he whispered to Danny as he took hold of the cord of a bright spotted light he'd brought down from Jeff's room he had aimed at the window. As Rooney's pounding reached a crescendo, he plugged the cord in, blazing the light on, and whispered, "Take one!" Danny hit the play button on his remote, and on the tape, Johnny the gangster asked out loud, "Who is it?" (the volume was set at full so it would sound like a real person). Kevin held up his hand to indicate his friend to stop the tape. Outside, Rooney assumed Johnny's voice was just a trick of some kind. "You know very well who it is!" he snapped, "It's Edward R. Rooney, Dean of Students, and you all left detention without proper authorization, so come out of there now!"

"Take two," Kevin whispered to Andrew, who hit play to have the Johnny on that tape say, "I knew it was you. I could smell ya..." (at this point Kevin gestured him to hit stop early, knowing that if the tape continued, Johnny was say "elevator," giving away the fact that it was a ruse). Rooney gave his armpit's a strange glance before continuing, "I demand you show yourselves right now, or I'll summon the police! How would you like that?"

"Take three," Kevin told Brian, on whose screen Johnny now said, "Yeah, and I'm glad to see you here too, Eddie. I'd had a feeling you'd go off and call the cops on me."

"And I will if you don't come out now!" Rooney shouted, "I know the way your mind works, John Bender; your phony voice doesn't frighten me!"

"Eddie, Eddie," Marv took his employer by the shoulder, "You're doin' it all wrong here. Ya don't smoke 'em out like that?"

"And I guess you know the right way, Mr. Murchens?" Rooney asked sarcastically.

"Watch and learn," Marv winked. He knocked gently on the door. "Ho-ho-ho, kiddies, it's Santa Claus!" he said jovially, "The mean men here are gone now, it's just me!"

Harry elbowed his partner in the ribs. "Eighteen-year-olds don't believe in Santa Claus, Marv," he pointed out.

Marv shrugged. "Hey, ya never know," he said cryptically, then continued to the kids inside, "I've got some nice presents for ya; just open the door, and I'll give 'em to ya."

"Take one," Kevin whispered. "Leave it on the doorstep and get the hell outta here," snorted Johnny #1.

"Hey, is that any way to talk to Santa?" Marv asked, miffed.

"One side," Harry shoved his partner aside. "Okay kid!" he barked, "Playtime's over! Hand over the fugitives right now! Like Eddie said, we'll stay all night if we hafta!"

"Ya was here last night too, wasn't ya?" asked Johnny #2.

"Uh, yeah, was you, cause we didn't....."

"...and ya was smoochin' with my brother!"

"WHAT!?" Harry was taken aback by this. Inside, Andrew couldn't help but break into laughter at the innuendo this was suggesting. "Hold it in!" Kevin pleaded with him, knowing if the villains heard laughter, it would all be over. Andrew covered his mouth but couldn't quite hold back the laughter, as it came out in snorts. Kevin could see some of the other kids were also starting to give way laughter wise, and hoped his plan would cause them to blow it now because of the humor of the whole thing.

"L-L-Look, pal, I don't even know yer brother!" Harry protested outside, "It's all a misunderstandin'!"

"Don't gimme that!" Johnny #2 snarled, "You've been smoochin' with everybody! Snuffy, Al, Leo, little Moe with the gimpy leg, Cheeks, Bony Bab, Cliff: I could go on forever, baby!"

Harry's mouth hung open in horror at this. Just about everybody in the house lost it at this remark, including Kevin himself, even though he'd seen it work before last year. Soon many of them were reeling around the room, trying to hold themselves in. Outside, Marv leaned over Harry's shoulder. "You did it with all those guys!?" he asked his buddy, "They're all on Cellblock F! Harry, is there somethin' about yourself you'd like to tell us?"

"He's lyin'!" Harry snarled. "Listen pal," he yelled at the door, "Nobody calls Harry Lyme a homo and gets away with it! You wanna throw down, I'm game!"

"All right, I believe ya," at this point, Kevin gestured for Claire to come forward. Claire picked up Buzz's BB gun and stepped into the path of the light Kevin was underneath. Silhouetted by the light and wearing all the extra apparatus, she looked much bigger and more threatening than she really was, waving the BB gun around as Johnny #2 continued, "but my Tommy gun don't!"

"WHOOOAA!" all the men outside recoiled in terror at the sight of the BB gun they thought was real pointed right at them. "Sir, please, we don't have to come to this!" Vernon pleaded at Claire, "We can settle this in a gentlemanly fashion!"

"Is that a fact?" asked Johnny #1, "How much do I owe ya?"

"Well, what do you think would end this peaceably?" Vernon asked the movie gangster's voice(s).

"Get down on yer knees and tell me ya love me!" ordered Johnny #2. The four men exchanged unpleasant glances. "Uh, Harry, I don't think this is the kid," Marv confided in his partner.

"So tell me something I DON'T know!" Harry shot back. Claire gestured with the BB gun for them to kneel. They reluctantly did so. "Who's going to do this?" Rooney asked the others.

"Why don't you do it, Ed? After all trying to kill these kids was your idea!" Vernon growled at him. Rooney shook his head dejectedly. "I love you," he told Claire without any emotion.

"Ya gotta do better than that!" Johnny #2 barked.

"I love you!" Rooney said again, this time with some more emotion.

"Rewind it," Kevin whispered to Andrew. He didn't know how much longer they could all hold out without breaking into hysterics. Even the depressed Brian was on the verge of losing it. On Johnny's repeating of, "Ya gotta do better than that!" All four men looked at each other, shook their heads, and said in unison, with as much feeling as they could handle, "I love you!"

"Maybe I'm off my hinges," said Johnny #2, "but I believe ya."

"Good," Harry snorted at Claire, "'cause we weren't gonna say it again!"

"I guess I could turn youse mugs over to the fuzz when they show,..." Johnny #3 began. Kevin motioned for Chandra, Kayla, and Skylar to start pushing the cardboard cannon look-alike forward, "....but I'll give youse guys a break. Instead of turnin' ya in, I'm gonna give ya to the count of five to get yer dirty, pathetic, low-life-lyin', worthless faces off my territory,..." he motioned Claire to put down the BB gun and take her place behind the "cannon," "...before I introduces ya all to my howitzer!"

"OOOOOH NOOOOOO!!!!" the men all screamed simultaneously. They started backing down the stairs as fast as they could. Kevin knew the climactic moment was at hand. He grabbed hold of the cord to the Christmas lights strung over the "cannon's" mouth. "Okay, light 'em," he whispered to Allison, who ignited the fireworks. He turned to Brian and waved his hand yelling softly, "Go full volume!" He jammed the lights' plug in just as Johnny #3 yelled "FIVE!" on the tape and started shooting his artillery piece. The Christmas lights lit up and started flashing, giving the impression of gunfire when combined with the exploding firecrackers. This brief flash and explosion sequence proved enough. Vernon, Rooney, Harry, and Marv fell backwards over one another in a desperate scramble for their cars, thinking they were under attack. "See Harry, I told you this guy was dead serious two years ago!" Marv confided in his partner as they rushed for their van.

"Just get in and let's get outta here!" Harry screamed at him. He started the van's engine and floored it--but he had the gearshift in reverse, and as a result, he backed in Rooney's car, knocking the hood off and causing extensive damage to the principal's vehicle. "Sorry, Eddie," the crook called out his window at his enraged employer as he hit the gas again, this time in forward. Back inside the McCallister house, everyone let loose now that their enemies were gone and were laughing like there was no tomorrow. "Did you see the look on Mr. Vernon's face when he was told to make love me!?" Claire gasped breathlessly.

"Never thought you'd live to see that, huh?" Skylar asked her.

"So I take it that it's all over now?" Bender called down from the top of the stairs.

"Yep, Bender, and you just missed...." Andrew lost it for a few seconds before continuing, "....you just missed the most hysterical case of mistaken identity I've ever seen!"

"Well, I wouldn't go that far, but thanks," Kevin said, feeling that old wave of accomplishment that had come about before whenever he'd disposed of the Bad Guys in the past.

"Boy Kevin, I must admit, you really are an expert at self-defense," Allison congratulated her junior friend, "How'd you get so good at this?"

"Well," Kevin thought about whether or not to reveal his secrets--he'd never told them to anyone older than himself before--but shrugged and said, "Well, it's a long story, but it's also a long night, so I'll put on the first movie of the night, and I'll explain it to everyone who I haven't yet during the feature. I think you'll enjoy it."

"I went too far, didn't I?" Neal said miserably.

"Yep," Clark told him.

"I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to Del!" Neal snapped.

"Well, to be honest, Neal, I think you kind of did this time," Del admitted, glancing through the window of their cell at the county prison. It was an old style, stone prison, and brutally cold air filtered in through the openings between the cell window's bars, causing all three men to wrap their coats tightly around themselves. The first advancing parts of the snowstorm hitting the Windy City were now reaching this part of Indiana, and almost an inch was on the ground now. "Boy, if this keeps up, it'll be just like the Blizzard of 96," the salesman commented, "I was stranded in Baltimore for four days after that shut down the Northeast at a Holiday Inn in the Inner Harbor. There wasn't all that much I could do except watch the Washington Bullets game, although I did manage to get a good walk of the Harbor once they'd plowed it good and clear."

"Well the big questions is, how do we get out of here?" Clark posed, pacing around, the room.

"Well, I'm open to any suggestions," Neal said, leaning against the bars.

"Well, how about we fake illness, and when the guard comes to investigate, we..." Clark began.

"Too hackneyed," Neal told him, "Everybody's done that."

"Okay then, we start a fire, and when they come to put it out, we...."

"Also overdone."

"Well how many other escape plans can there be!?" Clark protested.

"Who knows," Neal slumped downward. "How am I going to explain this to Susan? I've never done anything illegal in my adult life! Is this my penalty for working away from home!?"

"Who knows?" Del said, leaning against the window.

"Now I was talking to Sparky, not you," Neal told him. He decided to get the subject off their predicament. "So, do you think the Bears'll get the wild card?" he asked the others.

"It's going to be close," Del admitted, "They need the Lions and Rams to stumble, though. If they can beat the Packers Sunday, they'll have the tiebreaker, but I just don't see it happening offhand."

"Although if those two and the Falcons lose all lose, we might get the top wild card and a home game," Clark said optimistically.

"Well, regardless, I don't think anybody's going to catch Philly," Del said, "They've just got too much talent. And Although it's tighter in the AFC, I'd have to go with Cincinnati. Who'd've ever thought they'd be in the running?"

"True," Neal said, "I would have gone with the Colts, personally."

"I was always a Niners fan growing up," Del went on, going off into another tangent, "Although I switched over to the Seahawks after the league gave Seattle the franchise. I think we would have won at least two titles had we been able to get Tony Dorsett in the '77 draft, but the Cowboys stole him out from under us, the thieving overpaid tramps they were, and..."

"Uh, I think they're coming again," Clark said. Both Neal and Del rushed to the window next to him. A large military convoy was smashing through the gates of the prison. "Well, that's it, we're dead for sure now," Neal groaned, "And I'll never get..."

"This is old stone and mortar," Del commented, scraping at some of the stone of the cell walls, "This should come apart quite easily with the right utensils."

"Well Del, I don't think we have the right utensils in prison," Neal told him pessimistically.

"We do now," Del pulled something out of his pocket, "Diamond-studded shower curtain rings. They cut through anything. Including this mortar." He dug deeper into his pocket. "Only two," he mused, holding out another one, "Oh well, it'll do." He handed the second one to Neal. "Come on, we've got to chip like the wind."

"Chip like the wind? Now I've heard everything!" Neal thought out loud to himself. He and Del began pounding away at the mortar near the bottom of the window's bars. It fell away in large chunks. Soon the bottom part of the bars became visible. The men grabbed hold of it. "On three, one, two, three!" they all yanked the bars, which came off hard, sending them falling backwards. "Well, that worked easier than I thought it would," Del commented.

"Yeah, but how do we get down from here?" Neal posed, glancing at the window. It was at least thirty feet to the ground.

"Truck," Clark pointed up the prison's road. A large truck with an open back was heading toward them.

"I'm not jumping onto a truck!" Neal protested. The sudden bursts of gunfire from the soldiers storming the police station changed his mind almost immediately. "Okay, but let's make it count," he said quickly. They all squeezed up onto the ledge, Del dragging his trunk along with him. They watched the truck come along underneath them. The door to the holding area they were in started making banging sounds, as if it was being battered. "On three again, THREE!" Clark yelled and jumped, dragging the others with him. The managed to land safely in the back of the truck. It was then that Neal realized exactly what the truck was carrying. "GARBAGE!" he yelled, repulsed at how it was now all over his suit, "Ten thousand trucks you could have chosen, Sparky, and you had to choose a garbage truck!"

"Well we're out, aren't we?" Clark posed. He peered over the side and watched the soldiers look out the window they'd just jumped out. He ducked back down. "Well, once this thing stops for a red light, we'll climb out and hitchhike," he told the others.

"If it doesn't compact us first," Neal groaned.

"This'll be the last stop tonight," Buck told Miles and Maizy as he pulled up in front of the Reynolds' house, "This storm's just too bad."

"No problem there, UB," Miles said.

"Okay, I won't take too long," Buck sauntered out of the car toward the front door. Miles and Maizy sat back in the seats and exchanged glances. "It's about time," he said to her, "This is getting rather harrowing."

"I wonder what could be the problem with all these kids?" Maizy posed.

"....it's time for my date with Chanice," came Mark Tarquin's voice from across the street. Miles and Maizy jerked around at the mention of their aunt's name. Tarquin was walking toward his BMW, a mustached man in tow. "I don't really think your takeover plans are all that ethical, Mark," this man was saying.

"Lou, it's not like I'm leaving Chanice with nothing here," Tarquin told him, "She'll still get ten percent of the profits."

"And how long will it be before she realizes she's lost ownership of her company? I still think you should ask her first before you try and get her to sign it away."

"Lou, Chanice is a hard bargainer; if I try and ask her out front, she'll demand all kinds of concessions, and I want this to be an orderly takeover. By not letting her know what the document says, I avoid all the problems. And it's not like I've never done this before, you know."

"I know, but you said Cutter's going to be there," Lou said nervously, "Does he know? And if he finds out, are you aware what kind of an example you'll be setting for him?"

"He doesn't know because it doesn't concern him," Tarquin said firmly, "Now if you're through, I have a tire dealership to foreclose on."

He jumped into his car and sped off as fast as the storm allowed. Miles and Maizy exclaimed worried glances. "He's gonna rob Aunt Chanice blind!" they exclaimed simultaneously. "We've got to stop him!" Miles said, clambering over the front seat.

"What about Uncle Buck?" Maizy asked, following him over the seat, "Should we really be taking his car?"

"He can catch up," Miles said, taking hold of the staring wheel. He turned the key, which Buck had left in the ignition, and the engine roared to life.

"Floor it!" he shouted to Maizy on the floor. She pressed her hands down on the accelerator, and they peeled off after Tarquin.

Inside the Reynolds' house, Buck was pacing around in the kitchen. "So Emma," he was saying to Mrs. Reynolds, "How long have you been divorced from your husband?"

"Three years next February," Mrs. Reynolds told him, not taking her eyes off her needlecraft, "I'm still on reasonably good terms with Jerry, though. He comes over about once every two weeks."

"Did you, um, ever discuss with Allison about the divorce?" Buck continued. He heard the sound of the engine starting outside, but didn't think it was his car at first.

"Well she never asked," Mrs. Reynolds said. "I'm normally too busy anyway, with my job in the mailroom at Shirley Corp in the city."

"Shirley Corp, huh?" Buck remarked, "Have you seen my brother at all, he works there. Bob Russell? Curly hair and glasses?"

"Well, I might have seen him around once or twice," Mrs. Reynolds said. "Anyway, Allison's done quite well on her own without me, so I don't see what the problem is."

"Well, uh, Emma, actually I'm here because a classmate of Allison's clued me in to the fact she might need talking to," Buck admitted. "And from what I heard you say here, I think you might want to consider taking some more time off of work to be with you're daughter. After all, the..."

The sound of his unmistakable transmission shifting into gear outside clued his into the fact that his car was indeed moving. He ran to the front window and glanced out. "Oh my God, what are they doing!?" he cried as he watched his car peel up the street. He dashed out the door, calling behind himself to Mrs. Reynolds, "Think about what I told you, Emma, and I'll try and call you tomorrow morning to finish this conversation!" He ran up the street after his car. "Miles! Maizy! Come back here!" he yelled after it. Soon, though, he ran out of gas, and was left panting as they tore out of sight, swerving wildly all over the street. He put his hands over his face. "Boy, I'm dead," he said to himself between pants, "I am so dead!"

He noticed a light behind him, a snow plow truck. "Stop!" he shouted at it, waving his arms. It slowed to a stop. "Whatdya want, pal?" the driver asked him.

"Follow that car!" Buck pointed to the dot in the distance.

"What does this look like, a movie?" the plow driver retorted, "I've got a schedule to keep!"

"I'll come along, you just keep plowing," Buck swung himself on board and hit the accelerator before the plow driver could react, and they sped after his car.