"I can't believe you're really doing this," Bill sighed, shaking his head. "Robbing a kids' birthday party? That's just sick." Molly flashed a wicked grin, her toothpick dangling from crooked yellow teeth. "Bah, stickup a buncha shrieking ankle-biters? Child's play! No more risk than boostin' a hot go-cart." Brushing back her greasy mullet, she glanced at the party flyer taped to the wall - "Princess Tilly's 6th Birthday Fête! All Welcome!" "50 RSVPs. That's 50 party bags, stuffed with loot. Grand haul." Her eyes glittered with avarice behind smudged lenses. Bill grimaced, unsure if he could go through with this twisted scheme. What if he got caught? Disgraced? But another look at his partner's enthusiastic scowl banished misgivings. Their life of crime couldn't be questioned now. "Alright," he relented, "I'm in. But there's gotta be a better way than just crashing a bunch of little girls' tea party. These are kids, Molly. With parents. We need a plan." Hands on hips, Molly surveyed the dingy room, eyes flicking over their meager supplies. A pint of axle grease, Bowie knife, idiot child mask. Slicking back greasy bangs, she formulated. "We roll in under cover of darkness, low and loud. They won't know what hit 'em! I'll grease the hinges while you carry em off. Pile em quick like a pack of wild dogs." "Ehh..." Bill mulled it over. Seemed harebrained. But something about her infectious smirk made him want to play along, even if only for a laugh. "Alright Blondie. Operation: Pinata Commence." He saluted gravely, attempting to stifle a chuckle. Molly returned a sloppy gesture between hacks on her plastic pistol. They both doubled over cackling, screw loose and flying off its threads, their friendship cemented in lawlessness. Scurrying to prepped their ill-fated supplies, a plan truly worthy of master thieves was born in their madcap dimwitted minds. Poor children, poor parents. Have mercy!