Molly peeked through the blinds of their rickety van parked a block away from the Johnson house, where the party was in full swing. The sound of laughter and bouncy castle squeaks filled the air. She turned to Bill, who was busy assembling what looked like a child-sized super spy kit. "Bill, are you seriously going to wear that?" "What's wrong with it?" Bill adjusted the tiny headset on his slightly too-large head for the costume. "It's brilliant. No one suspects a kid." "You're forty-two," Molly pointed out, raising an eyebrow. "Forty-two is the new twelve, Molly. Keep up with the times." She snorted. "If twelve-year-olds were bald, maybe." "Hey, I have a cap to cover that. You know nothing about disguises." "Well, what happens when you speak? They're going to hear your deep baritone. I doubt anyone's ever met a pre-teen with a voice like that." "I'll whisper. I'll stick to nods and whispers." Molly shook her head. "Alright, but if this turns south, I'm going to say I tried to stop you." "Noted," Bill said with a grin. He slid the oversized glasses up his nose and adjusted his mismatched sneakers. "What about you?" "I'm the clown," she replied, pulling a frizzy rainbow wig over her hair. "No one questions the clown." "Of course not. Except when the clown makes off with the gifts." "That's the beauty of it. Already got squirting flowers and balloon animals loaded up. Who would suspect the friendly clown?" Bill smirked. "Touché. So what's the plan, mastermind?" "We mingle. I delight with some jokes, you work the crowd. Shed some tears, say they’re tears of joy, and swipe the goodies while I distract them with my comedy show." Bill cleared his throat. "Why can't you be the crybaby? I've got a more dazzling smile." "Because you’re the one who brought the fake tear kit, genius." "Right, forgot about that." He pocketed the tiny bottle. "Okay, how long do you think we'll have?" "Fifteen minutes tops. Kids have short attention spans." "Like you." "Exactly, smart aleck." Bill shrugged, peering out at the venue. "Hope you brush up on those knock-knock jokes." "They’re going to knock their socks off," Molly said with a wink. "Fine, but if anyone asks about my height..." "Tell them spinach works wonders," Molly interrupted, laughing. "Seriously though, ready?" "Born ready. Let’s make some five-year-olds' days a little less cheerful." Molly shot him a playful glare. "We’re targeting the parents, Bill. Only a monster steals from a kid." "Right, we're kind of probably the good guys here." "Mhm, exactly," Molly said, opening the van door. "And remember, don't panic." "Me? Never panic. Unless there's a clown with squirting flowers around." "Ha ha, very funny," Molly said as she adjusted her big red nose. "Into the fray." Bill nodded, looking like a misplaced schoolboy as he followed her out. With a final glance back at the van, he sighed. "For the record, you should have been the cowboy." "And you'd be the horse, no doubt," Molly teased. "Bingo," Bill chuckled as they approached the gates of candy-colored doom.