"Bill, how do you feel about unicorn cakes?" "Makes me gassy. Why, Molly?" "Because, at precisely three o’clock tomorrow, the Anderson twins are hosting the sparkliest unicorn jamboree this neighborhood has ever seen." "And this concerns us…how?" "Thirty-five kids, Bill. Thirty-five. Each with a present, each parent trying to outdo the next. Think of the loot." "Wait, you want us to rob a children’s party?" "‘Rob’ is such a strong word. I’m thinking more…politely relieve them of their burdens." "Politely? What, we waltz in wearing clown wigs and say, ‘Hand over the gifts, children!’?" "Don’t be ridiculous. We blend. We assimilate." "Into what, chaos? I panic around cupcakes, Molly. They crumble. I crumble." "Bill, Bill, listen. We go in as entertainment. Party magicians. I’ll be Sparkle the Dazzler. You’re The Amazing Billini." "Why do I have to be Billini? Sounds like pasta." "You want to be The Great Billini, then?" "Does that come with a cape?" "Sure. Sequins, even. The point is, with everyone gawking at you pulling scarves out of your ears, I’ll slip away, collect the presents, and—" "Waltz out the front door with thirty-five gaudy gift bags under your arm? Molly, these parents have camera phones and unresolved aggression. One balloon dog too few, and we’re toast." "You underestimate my present-loading precision. Plus, distraction is your specialty. Remember the wedding job? The doves?" "Don’t remind me. I had feathers in places I didn’t know existed. Still, how do you plan to move that many boxes, Miss Sparkle?" "We make it a magic trick. ‘The Great Vanishing Present Extravaganza!’ You saw it here first, kids! Applause, applause, I tip my hat, and—poof—gifts are gone." "And the children weep, and the neighbors chase us with juice boxes." "You worry too much. We pre-load the gifts into a large, festive box, our ‘magic trunk.’ When no one’s watching, we wheel it out the back door." "And if they spot the trunk moving, all on its own?" "That’s where the fake rabbit comes in." "I knew that rabbit was trouble. What does Fluffernutter have to do with it?" "He distracts the parents—slips loose, makes for the fruit punch fountain. Stampede! Adults go wild, shrieking, trying to catch him." "Fruit punch stains, Molly. Those don’t come out of corduroy." "You’re not wearing corduroy." "I might! I dress for comfort when sweating bullets." "So, you’ll do it?" "I’ll do it if you promise only two things." "Name them." "No white face paint. And you never, ever make me pull coins from behind old Mrs. Anderson’s ear again. That ear is haunted." "Deal. Let’s go over the plan again. We arrive, crack a few jokes, you swallow a balloon—" "No balloon swallowing. I’m still finding latex in my molars from last time." "Fine, you do a safe trick. I corral the gifts. At the climax, we vanish with the loot, using the Fluffernutter Gambit." "What if one of the kids wants to help with the trunk?" "You charm them. Or pull another coin out of an ear. Or just distract them with your tragic juggling." "My juggling is not—actually, yes, fine. I juggle, we escape, the Anderson twins get a moral lesson, and we retire in unicorn-glittered splendor." "That’s the spirit, Billini." "Don’t call me that."