"I can't believe we're doing this," Molly whispered, adjusting her fake mustache in the side mirror of their beat-up van. "Stealing from kids feels wrong, even for us." Bill rolled his eyes while checking the battery on his walkie-talkie. "Look, it's simple economics. Parents spend more on birthday presents than they do on their monthly car payments. One good haul from little Timothy's tenth birthday bash, and we're set for weeks." The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the suburban street as they watched parents dropping off their children at the Johnson residence. Each kid carried a brightly wrapped package that made Molly's stomach twist with guilt. "But what about their little faces when they realize all the presents are gone?" "Their little faces are exactly why this is perfect," Bill said, pulling out a detailed floor plan of the house. "Nobody suspects the clown and the magician of being criminals. We do our acts, keep them distracted, and when everyone's stuffing their faces with cake – bam! We hit the present table." Molly fidgeted with her rainbow wig. "I still think we should've stuck to insurance companies." "Insurance companies have security systems. These people have a golden retriever named Buddy who's more interested in hot dogs than protecting property." Through the windshield, they watched another minivan pull up. A mother helped her daughter carry an enormous box wrapped in unicorn paper. "Oh god," Bill breathed, "that's definitely a PlayStation 5." "How can you possibly know that?" "Twenty years of professional theft, sweetheart. You develop a sixth sense for these things." Molly sighed and checked her makeup one last time. "Just promise me we won't take any homemade presents. Those actually mean something." "Fine, fine. No macaroni art or hand-knitted sweaters. Just the good stuff from Target and Best Buy." "And we're sure the party's going for three hours?" Bill nodded, straightening his magician's bow tie. "Mom's Facebook post was very specific. Two to five PM, magic show, clown performance, cake, then presents. We'll be long gone before they realize anything's missing." "Speaking of missing," Molly said, "where exactly did you learn to do magic tricks?" "YouTube. How hard can it be? Pull a rabbit out of a hat, make a coin disappear, keep them entertained while you case the joint." "And my clown routine?" "Just make balloon animals and tell bad jokes. Kids are easy to please." Molly watched another car pull up, this one with twins carrying identical packages. "If we get caught, I'm telling them this was your idea." "We're not going to get caught," Bill assured her, reaching for his top hat. "Now come on, we've got a show to put on. And Molly?" "Yeah?" "Try to smile. You're supposed to be a clown, not a funeral director." They stepped out of the van, their shoes crunching on the gravel driveway as the sound of children's laughter echoed from the backyard. Molly adjusted her red nose and whispered, "I can't believe I let you talk me into this." "That's what partners are for," Bill replied with a wink. "Now let's go make some magic happen – and make some kids very, very disappointed."