"Molly, I can't believe we're doing this," Bill whispered, adjusting his fake mustache in the side mirror of their van. "What? Having second thoughts about stealing from children?" Molly snorted while loading party poppers into her jacket pockets. "Not second thoughts. Third, fourth, and fifth thoughts, actually." "Look, we've hit banks, museums, and that weird guy's ferret collection. This is just another job." "But they're kids, Mol. Little humans with their little faces and little expectations of birthday joy." "Little humans with expensive gaming consoles and designer clothes as gifts. Have you seen the present table through the window? It's like a mini Best Buy in there." "I feel dirty. And not the good kind of dirty." "You can feel dirty while counting cash later." "What's our cover again?" "We're the backup clowns. The real one called in sick." "I hate clowns." "Everyone hates clowns. That's why no one will approach us." "Smart." "Always am. Ready?" "No." "Perfect. On three, we enter, entertain for exactly seven minutes, then hit the gift table during the cake cutting." "This is a new low." "New lows pay surprisingly well."