Molly squinted through the binoculars at the bouncy castle fortress across the street. Twenty-seven gift bags lined the picnic tables, their tissue paper plumage rustling in the breeze like exotic birds. "Six-year-olds," Bill muttered, adjusting his clown wig. "Their security's probably tighter than Fort Knox." "The birthday boy's got a dinosaur piñata. Intel says it's stuffed with full-size candy bars." "Mother of pearl." Bill's rainbow suspenders were already chafing. The plan required them to blend in with the entertainment, but neither had anticipated how genuinely terrifying a gaggle of sugar-fueled first graders could be. Through the fence, they watched a small child tackle what appeared to be Spider-Man, who was definitely crying real tears. Molly checked her watch. The cake ceremony would begin in twelve minutes, drawing all eyes to the birthday throne. That gave them a narrow window to execute Operation Goodie Bag. "Remember," she whispered, pulling on her oversized bow tie, "we're Bubbles and Squeaky, children's entertainers extraordinaire. We juggle, we make balloon animals, and absolutely under no circumstances do we let them smell fear." Bill nodded solemnly, then honked his red nose twice for luck.