The sun gleamed off the white van as Bill and Molly sat in the front seats, surveying the colorful chaos unfolding across the street. Balloons and streamers adorned a suburban house, the morning air thick with the excited chatter of children arriving for a birthday party. Bill drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, a devilish grin spreading across his weathered face. "I still can't believe you talked me into this, Mol. Robbing a kid's birthday bash? Even for us, that's pretty low." Molly, all angles and dark hair, shot back a wink. "Come on, Billy boy. Where's your sense of adventure? We've swiped from mansions, museums, and jewelry stores. This'll be a piece of cake - a candy-coated heist!" "I just don't know..." Bill scratched the scruffy stubble on his chin. "Seems cruel, making off with some tyke's My Little Pony collection." "Aw, we'll merely be redistributing the wealth to ungrateful little brats who can't appreciate a nice gift." Molly adjusted her tight leather corset and patted a stuffed unicorn protruding from her gym bag. "Besides, the real score's built into the Pinata. Platinumuktaine Five diamonds, worth half a mil at least by my intel." Bill whistled softly. "No shit? Didn't think any decent thief would waste good rocks on rugrats' playthings." "Desperation's involved, I think. Kid's father's House Rep. Carruthers. Rotten old coot got popped for tax evasion last month. Family's all tapped out." "Thievin' from the propagandized, eh?" Bill's grin widened. "I'm in." The pair hopped out, hurrying toward the house in jaunty steps, playacting at being two adult chaperones. A bright "Welcome to the Magical Unicorn Ganbash!" shone over the front door, depicting a glitter-celebrating herd of the mythical beasts. "Charming," Molly murmured, smirking wryly. "Let's get this over with. Keep alert - if this works out, I expect free drinks all night from the proceeds." Inside, blaring music and yelling children chased all thoughts of morality from their minds as the two thieves circled the premises like wolverines, stalking glittery scoops of gifts crawling the carpet. Molly sidled up to a bubbling ice cream machine in the garage. She finnagled a setting, and the mechanism whined into motion, a pink and white flood geysering from the spigot into the trash bags she produced. "Bill!" she whispered shrilly, stuffing the unzippered sacks as fast as porpoise. "Four year-olds have no concept of cost; you're stealing us a gold mine!" "I'm on it." Bill sprinted for the basement stairs, thundering downward to where the piñata carcass was stashed, and quickly yanked out the plush bag of jewels, hurling it over his shoulder. Commotion burst the door, tiny hands yanking vigorously. "Pinata! Pinata, I wanna hit it!" "Unh-hunh, freddy little beasty," Bill cooed, scooping a sticky child into his arms. "Mama needs you outta the way a min, cutie." He stomped upstairs, Molly a-jingle with loot behind him, as the wails built to a roar... "Mommy! Sojer stoled presents! Wanna Pinata!" And then the screaming started.