Molly fanned herself with a napkin, the diner's air conditioning unit blowing a stream of warm air directly onto her neck. "This is a terrible idea, Bill." "You're just saying that because you're worried about the whole 'crying children' thing," Bill replied, chasing a dollop of ketchup around his plate with a greasy fry. "That's not the only thing I'm worried about," Molly retorted, flipping through the party invitation. "Kelly's Krazy Kids' Kingdom is basically Fort Knox for toddler tantrums. We'll get torn apart by a swarm of sugar-high rug rats before we even make it to the gift table." "Ah, come on," Bill said, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "It'll be fun! We'll dress up as clowns and blend in with the chaos. We can practically smell the opportunity wafting off this place." Molly raised an eyebrow. "You're still high from the last job, aren't you? The one where we had to steal a shipment of VHS tapes from a reject bin behind a Goodwill? You're still riding that wave of 'we got away with it' euphoria." Bill shrugged, his grin faltering for a moment before he recovered. "Hey, those VHS tapes were valuable. We got a good price for them." Molly snorted. "We got a good price for them because we sold them to a collector who was desperate for a complete set of box office bombs from the '80s. We barely broke even, and we had to deal with a garage full of static-ridden dreck for a week." Bill waved his hand dismissively. "Details, details. You're getting bogged down in the small stuff. This is a chance to make a real score. I mean, have you seen the guest list for this thing? There's some serious money attached to these kids' parents. We're talking designer duds, heirloom toys, gold-plated everything..." Molly sighed, sliding the invitation across the table. "Fine. But we're doing this my way. We're going in as catering staff, not clowns. I've got a friend who owes me a favor at a temp agency. We can get in that way." Bill picked up the invitation, studying it with a greedy intensity. "Okay, deal. But can we at least rig the ball pit with whoopee cushions? For old times' sake?" Molly shook her head, laughing