"I can't believe we're actually doing this," Molly whispered, adjusting her fake birthday clown nose in the rear-view mirror of their beat-up van. "Look, you wanted an easy score. What's easier than a bunch of wrapped presents just sitting there?" Bill was fiddling with his rainbow wig, trying to get it to sit straight. "Yeah, but stealing from kids? That's like... that's like stealing from kids!" "Your eloquence never ceases to amaze me, Mol." "Shut up. How many security guards does a backyard birthday party even have?" Bill pulled out a crumpled piece of paper with his hastily drawn surveillance notes. "Two. Ex-cops working private security. The dad's some hotshot tech executive who's paranoid about kidnapping." "So instead of kidnapping, we're just stealing all their presents. Much better." "Hey, you're the one who blew our savings at the track betting on a horse named 'Sure Thing.'" "He was supposed to be a sure thing! It's right there in the name!" "Well, now we're here. Remember the plan – you do your clown act, I pretend to be from the bounce house company, and we case the gift table." "I still think your balloon animal skills need work. That giraffe you made looked like a drunk snake with arthritis." "It's supposed to be abstract! Kids love abstract art." "Since when?" "Since I decided five minutes ago that all my balloon animals are abstract art pieces." Molly sighed, applying the last bit of her clown makeup. "The party starts in twenty minutes. You got the getaway route planned?" "Through the Anderson's yard, hop their fence, cut through the community garden, and our van's parked behind the Methodist church." "You really think we can outrun security guards while carrying garbage bags full of presents?" "That's why I brought these." Bill reached into his duffel bag and pulled out two pairs of light-up Heelys. "Are those... wheeled children's shoes?" "They'll never expect it. Plus, they're on sale at Target." "This is officially the lowest point of my criminal career." "Lower than the time you tried to rob that pet store and got outsmarted by a parrot?" "That bird was a narc and you know it." Bill checked his watch. "Show time. Remember, when I give the signal-" "Yeah, yeah, I start crying about my sick grandmother and gather all the kids for an emergency group photo while you stuff the presents in the bags." "And whatever you do-" "Don't actually make eye contact with any of the parents because guilt is the enemy of success. This isn't my first rodeo, Bill." "No, but it is your first children's party heist." "God, I hope it's my last. Next time I get a gambling itch, just punch me in the face." "Deal. Now put on your happy clown face – we've got some children's dreams to crush." "You really need to work on your pep talks." They both stepped out of the van, their squeaky clown shoes announcing their arrival to the quiet suburban street. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of children's laughter echoed like the world's most guilt-inducing soundtrack.