“You sure this is how we want to spend a Saturday night, Bill?” Molly chewed on a greasy French fry, eyeing the inflatable bouncy house warily. “Don't we have, like, standards?" Bill, disguised in a too-small lion costume, adjusted his mane. “Molly, relax. Think of the loot! We're talking top-shelf LEGOs, enough princess dolls to rival Buckingham Palace, and probably a robot dinosaur that pees glitter. This is prime time.” “Glitter needs to be outlawed,” Molly grumbled. “Who needs a peeing robot dino anyway? I'd rather be at home binge-watching reruns of ‘Cooking with Criminals’.” “But Molly, imagine the look on those little rugrats' faces when they see the presents gone! Bet they'll cry themselves to sleep.” “That part’s a bonus, sure,” Molly admitted, scraping the last of the fry sauce from the container. “But glitter? Seriously, Bill?” “Alright, alright," Bill said, laughing. "No glitter. See? Compromise. Now, grab your loot bag, we've got a party to crash. And try to be stealthy, would ya? Don't want to scare the birthday clown."