Molly thummed the edge of the invitation, embossed with the heart-wrenching ugliness of a clown's grin and the words "You're Invited" in jumbled, balloon-shaped letters. She side-eyed Bill, who was lounging on her couch, munching on stale popcorn. "You sure about this one, Bills?" Bill, specks of salt caught in his bushy mustache, grinned. "Ain't ever been a kid's party I couldn't crack. Besides, they'll be too busy with the Magician-fuhr-oted Clown-tini to notice a couple of 'stray balloons' in the corner," he said, wiggling his fingers in air quotes. Molly sighed, "Okay, but let's keep it simple. In and out. No magic tricks, no mingling with the brats." Bill's eyes glinted with mischief, "Aw, come on, Molly-kins, where's your sense of clowning around?" Molly raised an eyebrow, "Says the guy who almost got caught last time because he couldn't resist making a balloon giraffe." Bill's cheeks flushed, "Hey, that giraffe was a masterpiece! Besides, it was a distraction. And it worked, didn't it?" Molly leaned in, "Alright, alright. Just keep the 'distractions' PG-13 this time. We're here for the loot, not to become the Pied Pranksters of Preschoolersburg." The day of