Bill fidgeted with the bobby pin, attempting to pick the lock. “Are you sure this is the right party, Moll?” He whispered, his voice hushed with anxiety. Molly, perched on a nearby swing set, gave him a withering look. “Relax, Billy. You’re not going to get caught up in a three-year-old’s birthday bash. Besides, it's not like the cops are going to be looking for us. They're probably busy with the bank robbery on 5th Avenue.” She adjusted her clown wig and checked the bag of loot on her shoulder. “Now, hurry it up, would you? The kids are starting to get restless. I hear their little cries echoing in my brain, and it’s driving me nuts.” Bill finally clicked the lock open, a triumphant, relieved expression on his face. “It’s done. Let’s grab the gifts and get out of here.” Molly grinned. “Let’s go, then. Time to make a fortune off a bunch of toddlers.”