“Look, Molly,” Bill said, adjusting his oversized, polka-dotted bow tie, "we're stealing presents from a bunch of eight-year-olds. We're not robbing Fort Knox. This is a children's party." He pointed down at the party flyer, sprawled on the table between them, a brightly colored mess of cartoon animals and bouncing castles. “And that’s exactly why it’s brilliant, Bill.” Molly tapped the flyer with a manicured fingernail. “They’re all too busy stuffing their faces with cake and jumping on trampolines to notice a couple of seasoned criminals waltzing in with a duffel bag.” “'Seasoned criminals',” Bill scoffed. “The biggest heist you pulled off was swiping a dozen donuts from the bakery on a Wednesday morning." “You call yourself a seasoned criminal, Bill?” Molly countered, pushing a stray strand of auburn hair behind her ear. “You were caught trying to steal a ceramic frog from a tourist shop. It had been staring at you from the window all day. You were practically begging for it to be taken.” “Hey, that was a fine ceramic frog! You don't understand art,” Bill defended, crossing his arms. “I was thinking of re-selling it to some museum.” Molly rolled her eyes. “Sure, Bill. And I’m a world-renowned ballerina.” “See, I knew it! That's why I wanted to be a ballerina!” Molly sighed. “Bill, I’m not a ballerina. And we’re not talking about art. We’re talking about a children’s party that’s going to have a pile of presents bigger than you.” “You’re exaggerating -” “Listen to the flyer.” Molly pointed again. “It says, ‘No gifts smaller than a Volkswagen.’ Now, tell me, how big do you think these presents are? And how many?” Bill’s jaw dropped, staring at the flyer. “Maybe we should stick to robbing bakeries.” “No,” Molly countered. “I have an idea. We'll pretend to be clowns." Bill stared at her blankly. "Clowns?" "Yes, clowns! It's a classic! Everyone loves clowns, even at eight." She snapped her fingers. “We get in, grab the loot, and out. Easy peasy.” “You think I can learn to juggle in five hours?” “Honestly, Bill?” Molly said, exasperation crawling into her voice. “You think I’m going to juggle anything other than the presents? No, we'll just wear clown outfits. We’ll be the ‘Happy Birthday’ clowns. No juggling, no balloons, just a lot of presents.” “Oh,” Bill said. “That makes more sense.” “Exactly.” Molly beamed. “Now, let’s go look up clown outfits online. We need something… extravagant.”