"Alright, Louie, we'll be safe at the loading area at the docks. The cops ain't smart enough to look in a place that has 'inconspicuous' in its name."

"But if it don't work, we have two guns and a knife each, right?"

"Right."

As they were retreating, the sky was turning a lavender color, and the streetlights were beginning to turn on.

Legs, who was driving, almost ran over several people, though still less than Homer had nearly killed several hours earlier. The taxi spun around on the icy road, skidding to a halt just before they smashed into the waterfront mall. The police siren was still audible in the distance. They quickly got out of the cab (Legs carrying Maggie in his arms), and started running down the mall platform towards the Mob's loading area.

It seemed like they had escaped the police, when Louie smacked into Homer, who had his paparazzo camera around his neck.

"Ow!" said Homer. "Hey, aren't you those guys... Fat Tony's goons? Still with the Mafia?"

"Uh-huh," answered Legs, getting ready to start running again.

"Oh, and you adopted the cutest little daughter together! Reminds me of my own little baby. Coochie-coochie-coo!" Homer tried to tickle 'Angie,' who desperately reached for him, making upset noises. When Homer didn't recognize her, she spat out her champagne cork and chucked it at him in frustration. "I guess she doesn't like me much," said Homer. "Does this mean I get to call you gayngsters then? Get it, it's because you're gangsters and you're also—"

Louie took out one of his guns, and pointed it right at Homer's face. "What is you sayin'?" he said, darkly. Maggie tensed in Legs's arms.

"Uh, I j-just assumed… you two were always together…and, uh," Homer stuttered. With his hands out, he slowly backed away, closer to the water's edge.

"Louie, what are you doin'? The boss said specifically not to whack this guy, remember?" asked Legs, nervous that this display of violence would attract the police again.

"I know," said Louie, distraught. "But don't you hear what he's insinuatin'? That w-we're… that I'm…" His hold on the gun started to quiver. Homer just kept backing away slowly, like a zombie in reverse.

"So what if he insulted us because he's too much of a dumbass to know what he's sayin'," said Legs. "Is that more important, or is the fact dat he has the last fond memories of our old boss?"

"Well, maybe you've got a point… I never had to worry about getting' concrete shoes when it was just the three of us…" Louie admitted. He slowly lowered his gun.

Homer kept on backing up until there was no more platform left to walk on, and he fell backwards into the water with a mighty splash.

"D'oh!"

Legs and Louie assumed Homer would just float there harmlessly due to his plentiful body fat, so they continued to the inconspicuous loading area, but when they entered it, they saw none other than Moe Syszlak standing there, his shotgun at the ready.

"Turns out the guy I bribe t' wipe my record clear at da courthouse knew exactly where you mobsters'd be," he said, grinning. When she saw Moe, Maggie clapped her hands and made happy sounds.

"Aw, come on," complained Louie. "Why ain't there ever any honor among criminals 'round here, even on Christmas Day!"

Johnny got a call on his cell. He and Frankie were still outside Costington's department store.

"Why don't I ever get calls on my phone?" complained Frankie.

"Just shuddap and let me see if it's Tony," Johnny said.

It was not Tony. Frankie tried to listen in on the conversation, but couldn't hear it.

"Well, what is it, Johnny? Tell me!" he said.

"Uh… you may not like this," Johnny said. "'Your' baby is being driven somewhere by that meddlin' bartender, and he's stolen one of our own trucks to do it. He's headed our way… oh wait, that him." Johnny pointed to a red and white truck driving past them.

Frankie's face went through several emotions. He eventually settled on a determined look.

"Oh no," said Johnny. "Don't tell me you're having an actual motivation now."

Frankie looked around, and saw that farther along the road, Dr. Nick was getting on his yellow bicycle, apparently not realizing the risk of riding in the winter. Frankie rushed towards him, and wrestled the bike away.

"Hi, Mr. Mobste—"

"Shut your trap, Doctor!" Frankie leapt on the bike, rode about four feet, and fell over, scraping up his lip on the pavement. Johnny walked over to him.

"You dunno how to ride a bike?" asked Johnny.

"I never got off of training wheels, okay?" said Frankie.

Johnny rolled his eyes, but he helped him back onto the bike. He grabbed one side of the handlebar, and ran beside it, until Frankie was going fast enough to balance on his own.

"The truck might get caught up in traffic ahead!" Johnny shouted after him. "You could still catch it!"

"You're too kind!" Frankie shouted back.

After he rode too far away for Johnny to see, Legs and Louie pulled up in the taxicab.

"What's goin' on here?" asked Legs, sticking his head out the cab window.

"Frankie's tryin' to get himself killed again," answered Johnny, who quickly got in himself. Legs, the driver, rolled his eyes and raced after the truck.

Frankie kept following Moe as fast as he could go on his stolen bicycle. His cheeks were burning, and his nose started to run because of the freezing air hitting his face. The other mobsters drove up next to him and slowed their pace. Louie leaned out of the window.

"'Ey Frankie," he said. "You really wanna die, do ya?"

"I'd rather die than live without my Angie!" Frankie answered.

"Suit yourself." Louie pulled the bicycle close to the taxi, and they rushed forward. Ahead of them, Moe saw congested traffic.

"Damn shockwave effect!" he said. Maggie, in his lap, looked up with a worried expression. "I bet there ain't even a gruesome accident to cause it!" Moe looked in his rearview mirror, and saw the taxicab approaching. "Aw, crap. Hold on, desperate times call for desperate measures," he said. Moe stepped on the gas, and the truck smashed into cars on both sides of the road. He looked down at Maggie.

"Well, at least you'll be safe now, Magpie," he said, but when he looked up, he was speeding right towards the front of Springfield General Hospital. He quickly swerved, and smashed into the building.

Moe scooped up Maggie and ran into the hospital, just before the truck burst into flames. He quickly got into the elevator and went up.

The mobsters stopped in front of the wrecked truck. Legs, Louie, and Johnny got out of the taxi. Frankie dismounted the bike, and ran after Moe and Maggie. He manically pushed the elevator buttons, but when that was too slow, he settled for running up the stairwell.

"So…" said Louie, "are we gonna follow him?"

"Yeah, well," said Legs, "we don't want him shoving him offa the roof or somethin' unless we can make it look like an accident."

Frankie ran up the flights of stairs as fast as he could, despite being in pain. He stumbled several times, and when there were no more stairs, he found a door. He opened it, and saw another door, green and unassuming; the door that led to the roof. Frankie was panting and had a cold sweat on him, despite the cold.

I just hope Angie's alright, he thought. But if she's not… I'll tear the bastard apart!

He opened the door, and a frozen wind hit in him the face. It was night, and the snow was blowing even harder than before, so he couldn't see far.

The roof had a thick layer of packed snow over it. Frankie trudged through it as fast as he possibly could. He held his hand over his eyes, and saw that on the end of the roof, was Moe Syszlak and Maggie.

Frankie, despite being an idiot, was no stranger to what Moe often tried to do on roofs, on Christmas. Pretty everyone in Springfield knew. Frankie, terrified, ran closer, but Moe climbed onto the edge of the roof, and held Maggie up.

"I want us to be a family! We should both go out together." yelled Moe. "Step any closer, and we both go ova' the side!"

"No! Don't do it!" Frankie pled. "Listen to me, you psychopath! I know what it's like to want a kid that much, but she's much too… too much better than us to die! She's our little angel! Don't do it, please, I'll do anything…" Moe paused, and lowered Maggie a bit, who was holding on for dear life, and looking between him and Frankie nervously.

"Alright…." said Moe, quietly. "I'll let her go, if you throw down your weapons, and promise not ta' hurt us."

Frankie wordlessly took out his gun and threw it into the snow. Moe put Maggie down, began to take a step, then stopped and pulled his shotgun. Frankie put his hands up.

"Hah, you moron!" said Moe. "Then again, I'm a pretty good actor when I wanna be." He cocked his shotgun, aimed for Frankie, and fired. A shot rang out, but instead of Frankie screaming in pain, it was Moe.

"Aw, dammit!" shouted Moe, his face blackened. "Not another misfire!"

Maggie looked up at him, and then turned to Frankie, who bent down and held his arms out.

"Come here, Angie," he said. "I even got you a new dress here!"

Maggie slowly crawled towards Frankie, then picked up his gun from the snow.

"Uh, Angie, that ain't a toy," Frankie said. "You should put it down."

Maggie crawled closer, still holding the gun, and when she got close to him, she held it up to him with a sweet look on her face.

"That's it, sweetie, give the gun to—AARGH!"

Maggie shot him under the right shoulder, and Frankie crumpled into the snow in agony.

Moe wiped the soot from his face. "Aw, that's great," he said. "You learned to shoot even earlier than I did. Let's take you back home.

"Hey, look. a new dress! Why don't we make this a little Christmas gift, huh, sweetheart?"

Frankie was left twitching in the icy cold, tears in his eyes.