The small crinkled paper bag rustled as Bill took another sip from his oversized coffee mug emblazoned with a cartoon cat wearing a monocle. Molly watched him intently, the fluorescent lights of the greasy spoon casting strange shadows on his thick mustache. “Are you sure about this, Bill? I mean, stealing presents from kids?" Bill set the mug down with a thump and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a smudge of brown on his cheek. “Molly, sweetheart, have I ever steered you wrong?” Molly hadn’t even finished contemplating that question before Bill was off on another tangent. “Picture this: a room full of oversized stuffed animals, kids bouncing off the walls on a sugar high, and enough glitter to choke a horse. And the best part? None of them would even notice us.” “Maybe, but aren’t you overlooking something, Bill?” Bill puffed his chest out, his belly straining against his plaid shirt. “Operation: Tiny Tyrants will go off without a hitch! We’ll be in and out before those little ankle-biters even realize their Power Ranger action figures are missing.” Molly rubbed her temples. She’d followed Bill on many a crazy scheme, but this one seemed even wilder than usual. "Sure, except... have you seen the parents at these things? They're more terrifying than any security guard I've ever encountered." Bill waved his hand dismissively. "Relax, honey, we'll blend right in. I've got a primo clown costume. I think there's a tutu in my trunk, too. We'll be kicking off our angry bird parade before you can say 'pin the tail on the donkey.'" Molly stared at him blankly. “A tutu? Really, Bill? That’s your plan?” Bill shrugged, already reaching for his wallet, a superhero keychain hanging practically heavy enough to weigh him down. "Look, we're going to hit Big Betsy's Bonanza Birthday Bash tomorrow. It’s the biggest, most expensive kid's party in town. I hear she even has a pony. Think of the ransom we could get for a miniature horse, Molly! Think of the possibilities!” Molly sighed, knowing there was no stopping Bill once he got an idea in his head. She grabbed her coat, pulling a balaclava from its pocket. If she were going to do this, she was going as Robin Hood, not some overgrown, tutu-wearing kindergartner. “Fine,” she conceded, tugging the mask over her face. "But if one kid throws up on me, I'm leaving you to fend off the sugar-crazed horde yourself." Bill grinned, kicking his feet up on the table, his eyes already glinting with mischievous glee. "Relax, Molly darling, relax. It’s gonna be a party.”