"This is the dumbest plan we've ever had," Bill muttered, adjusting his fake clown nose. Molly rolled her eyes. "You say that about every job. But these suburban birthday parties? Golden." "We're stealing from children's birthday presents. That's low, even for us." "Low? This is strategic. Parents always buy expensive gifts. Laptops, game consoles, designer sneakers. Kids get stuff worth thousands." Bill scratched his polyester costume. "What if there are, like, witnesses?" "It's a six-year-old's party. The parents will be drunk on cheap rosé and comparing Pinterest decorations. We'll blend right in." "As clowns." "Exactly. Who suspects clowns?" "Literally everyone suspects clowns." Molly smirked and checked her oversized shoes. "We've got fifteen minutes after the cake cutting. I'll create a distraction, you grab the gift pile." "And if a kid notices?" "We'll do a magic trick. Misdirection is our friend." Bill sighed. "We are definitely going to hell." "Probably," Molly grinned. "But with a lot of new electronics." The inflatable clown horn between them seemed to laugh in agreement.