Molly and Bill sat hunched over a table in a dive bar, their eyes darting around to ensure none of the patrons eavesdropped on their conversation. Molly, a tall, slender woman in a ratty trench coat, took a drag from her cigarette and ble Je: "I've got the perfect score, Bill: a kid's party at the Richie-Riches' mansion." Bill, a portly man in a stained trenchcoat and a crooked fedora, grumbled, "Another kiddie party? When's the last time we b: "Not just any party, genius. This is their spoiled brat's birthday bash. It's a goldmine in gift bags!" "You sure you got the right place, dollface?" Bill took a swig of his beer. "Trust me, fatso. I RSVP'd us as the clown and magician. They're expecting us at 2 P: "So, you want me to dress up like a clown?" Bill's upper lip curled in disg: "You got a better idea, tubby? You're the one who wanted to get back at that ringmaster for firing us." "Alright, alright, but I am not tying balloon animals for those brats." Bill sighed and: "I'll handle the kids. You just make sure you're ready with the van and the real props." "Piece of cake." Bill patted his stomach, his fake clown bel: "We'll drive away with a vanload of presents, and by the time anyone figures out, we'll be sipping mojitos on a beach in Cancum