“Okay, so we hit the bouncy castle first?” Bill asked, adjusting his ill-fitting clown wig in the reflection of a plastic spoon. “No, you nincompoop,” Molly hissed, shoving a handful of party poppers into her oversized polka-dot purse. “The bouncy castle is our escape route. We make a break for it, jump into the inflatable castle, and disappear into the chaos.” “Disappear into the chaos? Sounds dangerous.” “It is! It’s a den of sugared-up five-year-olds! What, were you expecting tea and biscuits?” Bill shuddered. “Don’t mention biscuits. I’m living off party food until this job is done.” Molly rolled her eyes. “Fine, then we grab the loot and make a run for the door. But I’m warning you, if I trip over a rogue roller skate, I’m using your clown wig as a getaway vehicle.”