“Bill, listen—what if there’s a bouncy castle? You ever try to look inconspicuous near a bouncy castle?” “Molly, you blend. Bounce a little. Act like you’re watching your kid and stuff.” “I don’t have a kid, Bill.” “Pretend. Everyone’s distracted by cake and sugar crashes. We swoop in.” “Swoop? With all those kids? Last time I swooped, I tripped over a tricycle.” “This is why we did reconnaissance. Table near the clown—not the magician—goes up first.” “What if the clown sees?” “I’ve never seen a clown sober. We’re fine.” “Ok, so what about the presents? You got the bag?” “Double reinforced. Can hold a bicycle or a life-sized flamingo—learned last time.” “Good. Any idea what’s in the presents?” “Does it matter?” “I don’t want another Beanie Baby incident, Bill.” “Trust me, no collectibles this time. Just cheap plastic but in quantity it’s all profit.” “And the parents?” “Distraction. You wear the balloon hat, do the worm.” “Bill, I haven’t done the worm since ’98.” “No one’s sober enough to notice form.” “What if I break something?” “They cheer. Then we run.” “You’re a genius, Bill.” “I know. Grab your wig.”