Molly peered through the binoculars at the bouncy castle in the backyard. "Sixth birthday party. Prime target." "You're serious about this?" Bill adjusted his ski mask. "We're really robbing little Timmy?" "It's strategic. Parents buy the expensive stuff for parties. iPads, gaming consoles, those fancy LEGO sets that cost more than my rent." "But they're kids, Molly." "Kids who won't remember what they got anyway. You see that pile by the picnic table?" "The one guarded by the clown?" "That's our score. I'll create a distraction with the piñata. You grab everything wrapped in dinosaur paper—that's the good stuff." "How do you know?" "Rich parents always pick themed wrapping. Poor parents use newspaper." "This feels wrong." "You felt wrong about the mall Santa job too, but we made eight grand." "That was different. Those were donations." "To us! Look, in and out, five minutes. I've got juice boxes in the van for our getaway." "Juice boxes?" "Apple or fruit punch?" "...Apple." "That's my partner. Now remember, if anyone asks, we're entertainment. I'm a juggler, you're a mime." "I hate being the mime." "Should've brought your own costume then."