"I can't believe we're actually doing this," Molly whispered, adjusting her fake party planner badge in the rearview mirror of their parked van. Bill shuffled through a stack of birthday party invitations they'd collected from neighborhood mailboxes. "Listen, one Princess Unicorn Party equals at least thirty presents. That's better than hitting a house any day of the week." "Yeah, but they're kid's presents. What are we gonna do with a bunch of Barbies and LEGO sets?" "You'd be surprised what parents spend these days. Besides, did you see the address? These aren't dollar store gifts we're talking about." Molly drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, watching another minivan pull up to the palatial suburban home. "What's our story again?" "We're from Perfect Party Planning Plus. The original entertainment got sick, and we're the replacements. You're the face painter, and I'm the magician." "Can you even do magic?" Bill pulled a quarter from behind her ear. "Ta-da." "That was terrible," Molly groaned, swatting his hand away. "And what about the real party planners?" "Already taken care of. Their van had a mysterious flat tire about ten miles from here. They're probably still waiting for roadside assistance." A group of squealing children ran across the front lawn, each clutching gift bags nearly as big as they were. Molly watched them disappear inside the house. "Bill, I'm having second thoughts. This feels wrong, even for us." "Since when did you grow a conscience? Remember the Easter Bunny job at the mall?" "That was different. We just took the photo money, not actual kids' presents." Bill straightened his bow tie and pulled a wand from his jacket pocket. "Look, we go in, do our acts for thirty minutes, say we need to get more supplies from the van, grab the presents, and we're gone. They'll still have cake and ice cream." "You're a monster," Molly said, but she was already reaching for her face-painting kit. "A monster who's about to score at least three grand in resale value. Now, you remember the signal?" "You say 'for my next trick' three times, and that's when I create a distraction by spilling the water cups." "Perfect. And remember, these are six-year-olds. They believe in unicorns and tooth fairies. We just have to sell it for half an hour." Molly applied one last coat of lipstick and grabbed her supplies. "If there's a bouncy house, I'm calling the whole thing off." "Deal. Now put on your best Disney princess smile. We've got some magic to make happen." They stepped out of the van into the warm afternoon sun, the sound of children's laughter and pop music floating from the backyard. Bill adjusted his cape, and Molly straightened her cheerful name tag. "Ready?" he asked. "Yeah. But if we get caught, I'm telling them this was all your idea." "Wouldn't expect anything less, partner. Now, let's go steal from some children."