Molly drummed her fingers against the steering wheel, staring at the bouncy castle that loomed over the backyard fence like a pastel fortress. The summer heat made the vinyl shimmer, and the sound of screaming children carried across the quiet suburban street. "I don't know about this, Bill," she said, adjusting her fake pizza delivery uniform. "Stealing from kids feels like a new low, even for us." Bill, slouched in the passenger seat with his matching uniform, pulled out a crumpled blueprint of the house. "Look, these aren't just any presents. Tommy Martinez's dad is some hotshot tech executive. We're talking gaming consoles, top-of-the-line tablets, probably even one of those tiny electric cars kids drive around in." A group of sugar-charged eight-year-olds ran past their parked car, wielding water guns and shrieking with delight. Molly winced as one of them smacked face-first into a tree. "The timing has to be perfect," Bill continued, circling the kitchen entrance with a red marker. "When they bring out the cake, everyone clusters around the birthday boy. That's our window." Molly squinted at the growing pile of presents by the back door. "And you're sure the mom ordered pizza?" "Called it in herself. Two large pepperonis and a gluten-free veggie. We intercept the real delivery guy two blocks away, then we're golden." A clown carrying an armful of balloon animals waddled through the front gate, and Molly felt her stomach turn. "I hate clowns. You didn't say anything about clowns." "Focus, Mol. The presents are our target, not Bozo over there." She watched as the children swarmed the clown like tiny pirates boarding a ship. "What if one of them spots us? Kids are more observant than you think." Bill pulled out two fake mustaches from his pocket. "That's why I came prepared. No kid remembers what the pizza person looks like, especially not with a quality disguise like this." "That's your quality disguise? A stick-on mustache?" "Works every time. Besides, we'll be in and out before they finish singing Happy Birthday." Molly grabbed the mustache and pressed it above her lip, immediately regretting the cheap adhesive. "If we get caught, I'm telling the cops this was all your idea." "When have I ever steered you wrong?" "The retirement home bingo heist? The ice cream truck job? That time you convinced me to rob a pet store and we ended up with thirty hamsters?" Bill waved his hand dismissively. "Minor setbacks. This is foolproof. Trust me." A car turned onto their street, and through the windshield, Molly spotted the familiar logo of Luigi's Pizza. "Here comes our guy. Ready?" "Born ready," Bill said, adjusting his mustache. "Remember, we're just two normal pizza delivery people who definitely aren't about to steal presents from a bunch of children." Molly started the engine, already wondering how this would inevitably go wrong. "Sometimes I think we should've stuck to banks."