"Are you sure about this, Bill?" Molly asked, eyes narrowed at the brightly coloured bouncy castle in the distance. "Relax, Molls," Bill grinned, adjusting the fake handlebar moustache he'd glued on. "It's a five-year-old's birthday party. What's the worst that could happen? Sugar rush riots?" "Besides the fact that robbing a bunch of toddlers is morally questionable, we're talking about parents, Bill. Parents at a kids' party. They've seen it all. They're like security guards with juice boxes and suspiciously stained sweatpants." "We'll be in and out before they even notice we're gone." Bill boasted, patting the bulging duffel bag at his side. "Speaking of which," Molly said, tugging at the cheap pirate hat perched on her head, "What exactly are we planning on doing with thirty singing fish keychains and a mountain of Play-Doh? We can't exactly fence those at the pawnshop." "Details, Molls, details. Just trust me on this one. This is gonna be bigger than the Great Cake Caper of '09." Molly sighed. "You say that about every job, Bill. Remember the pet rock fiasco?" "Alright, maybe not bigger," Bill admitted, whistling innocently. "But still, it'll be fun!"