“Alright, Bill, let’s go over this one more time. No mistakes this time. Last Nanda’s Nephew Nigel's Sixth Birthday Bonanza almost ended with us stuck in a bouncy castle full of emotional four-year-olds.” Bill scratched his stubble, chewing on the end of a felt-tip pen. "Right, right. No bouncy castles. Solid plan. Though, those little tykes throw some mean party favours. I still have glitter in places…" "They also have surprisingly strong aim with those tiny plastic swords." Molly leaned back in her chair, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "But moving on. Think you can slip past those parents with the face paint? They get really intense when it's their kid's special day." Bill scoffed. "Please, I could charm the stripes off a zebra. And besides, it’s not like I'm asking for detailed portraits on my cheeks. Just a quick dab of blue around the eyes, maybe a star, and bam! Instant 'fun dad'. You'd be surprised how much parents trust other 'fun dads'." He flashed a lopsided grin. "Just don't start juggling the balloons again. Remember what happened at Fiona’s First Frolic? Helium high followed by an impromptu interpretive dance with a balloon giraffe... it wasn't our finest hour." Bill waved his hand dismissively. "Caffeine withdrawal, Molly, pure caffeine withdrawal. Besides, it's all about intel. I blend in, you grab the loot. Easy peasy lemon squeezy." “Right, about the loot," Molly said, pulling out a photocopied illustration of a giant plush unicorn. “This isn’t your average kiddie plunder, Bill. We're talking about 'Rainbow Sparkle Sunshine', the hottest toy this side of the Mississippi. One of these bad boys will fetch a fortune on the black market." Bill whistled under his breath. "Frothy fabric and glitter-bombs? You sure you want this, Molls? Seems a bit... sentimental for our usual repertoire." "Sentimentality? Bill, I wouldn't know sentimentality if it slapped me in the face with a handful of confetti. This is about diversification. We gotta stay ahead of the curve, Bill. Forget diamonds, kiddie toys are the new gold." Bill's eyebrows shot up. "You're telling me there's a whole underground network dealing in anthropomorphic stuffed animals?" "Don’t act surprised," Molly said, pulling a worn suitcase from under the table. "Think about it. Christmas is right around the corner. We’ll be swimming in dough, Bill. Kings of the stuffed freaking jungle.” Bill had opened the suitcase, revealing rows of tiny, pastel-colored ninja costumes. “Ninja clowns?" Molly grinned wickedly. “We gotta blend in, remember? Trust me, Bill. This is gonna be fun." Bill shook his head, a smile creeping onto his face. "You know, for someone who swore off glitter cannons, you seem awfully excited about this gig." "Shut up and pass me the blue face paint," Molly said, picking up a hairspray can and shaking it vigorously. "Showtime, Billy boy."