"Molly, this scheme of yours is bonkers," said Bill, shaking his head. "We're gonna rob a bunch of six year olds? For shame!" "Oh hush, it's a high-class private party," retorted Molly. "I saw the gifts through the window - designer clothes, gaming systems, unicorn frappuccino makers. We're talking high end stuff here." Bill rolled his eyes. "And you propose we just waltz in and start stuffing a sack full of play-dough and My Little Ponies? Sounds like a recipe for getting our faces plastered on 'Wanted' posters." "No, we'll blend in as employees. I got us some catering uniforms and ID badges." Molly held up the outfits proudly. "Uh huh. And what, we'll poison the cupcakes and slip away in the chaos? Even for you, that's cold-blooded!" "Nononono. Much simpler than that. We'll just wheel out a rolling cooler for the 'eggnog', park it by the gift table, and...Ta da! No more presents!" Bill sighed deeply. "Let's discuss this over some brainstorming tequila shots. Oh, and maybe do a sanity check. Because robbing a children's party to me still feels like a bridge too far." "Tsk tsk, Bill. Loose lips sinks ships. Now pass the mimosa mix. Operation 'Birthday Bandits' is a go!"