Bill and Molly crept along the darkened sidewalk, glancing furtively at the brightly lit house up ahead. Shrill laughter and gleeful shrieks spilled out from inside - the perfect cover for their nefarious scheme. "So, what's the play?" Molly asked in a stage whisper. "I go in posing as a clown, juggle some balls, do some balloon animals, and then once I've got the kiddies distracted, you sneak in the back and swipe all the wrapped boxes." Bill snorted. "That's a good one. The last time you tried balloon art, you nearly blinded the birthday girl with a rogue whoopee cushion." "And I maintain that was the parents' fault for giving me a bag of balloons that clearly said 'Not for Clowns.' Whatever, just get ready to make yourself scarce when the screaming starts." Bill held up his hand. "Wait - I've got a better idea." He rummaged in his satchel and produced a stack of flyers emblazoned with garish purple lettering: "TREAT YOUR TOT TO A WILD TIME WITH BILLY THE VISIGOTH!" "THAT'S NOT A VAN, THAT'S A PARTY ON WHEELS!" "The parents will be too busy stuffing their faces to pay us any mind," Bill said smugly, shoving the flyers into Molly's hands. "You just flash those around, get them to sign the dotted line, and we'll be in like Flynn." Molly sighed and shoved the flyers back. "I don't like this plan. It reeks of a bad TV show." "Oh come on, it'll be a blast! We'll have a regular renaissance faire in no time - face-painting, sword swallowing, the whole shebang." "I'm not wearing tights. I don't care how 'period-appropriate' they are." "They're not tights, they're breeches!" "They're tights and you know it. And I'm not doing a lute serenade either." Bill pouted. "Fine. You do the clown gig. But if you accidentally pop the kid, I'm not bailing you out this time." Molly smirked. "Aw, you don't mean that, Billy boy. Besides, you love me and you know it." She punctuated her words with a quick peck on the cheek. "Ugh, I taste lip