"I'm telling you, Bill, 'Princess Sparkles' themed parties are the new goldmine," Molly said, eyes fixed on the colorful flyer. "Are you insane? We're planning to rob a kids' birthday bash," Bill whispered, glancing around the cramped café. "Ah, come on! It's not like we're swiping their lunch money. These presents are top-shelf, overpriced junk. The parents will just write it off as a tax deduction." "Top-shelf junk? You've been watching too much QVC. What's the take, really?" "Conservative estimate? Five grand in toys, plus whatever cash the desperate parents stuffed into those tacky cards. And let's not forget the pièce de résistance: the bouncy castle rental money." Bill rubbed his temples. "You know the security, right? A harried events coordinator and a handful of sugar-high 7-year-olds?" Molly grinned mischievously. "That's not security, Bill – that's a welcome mat. Now, who's going to dress up as the entertainment?" "Ugh, not me. I draw the line at wearing a furry onesie." "Oh, don't be such a party pooper! You'll make a great 'Mr. Sparklepaws'!"