Molly crouched behind the hedge, peering through the fence slats at the balloon-festooned backyard. Colorful streamers fluttered in the breeze while a dozen seven-year-olds shrieked with delight around a bounce house. "This feels wrong," Bill whispered, adjusting his black ski mask. "Like, morally wrong." "Oh please," Molly hissed back, "we're professional criminals, not Sunday school teachers." "But they're just kids, Molly. Look at them playing pin the tail on the donkey." She rolled her eyes. "And look at that present table. I count at least twenty wrapped boxes. That's our retirement fund right there." Bill squinted through the fence. A mountain of gifts teetered precariously on a folding table, each box wrapped in shiny paper with elaborate bows. His stomach churned as a small girl in a tiara squealed with excitement nearby. "What if we get caught? How do we explain breaking into a birthday party?" "We don't get caught," Molly said firmly. "That's literally our job description." "I've stolen from banks, museums, even that circus last month, but this..." "Will you stop being such a baby? Wait, where are the parents?" Bill scanned the yard. The children ran wild while upbeat pop music blared from speakers. "Maybe they're inside getting the cake ready?" "Perfect timing then. You create a distraction while I grab the loot." "What kind of distraction?" Bill asked nervously. Molly grinned wickedly. "Remember how you used to be a clown?" "That was one summer job twenty years ago!" "The skills never leave you, Billy. Now hop that fence and give them the performance of a lifetime." Bill looked down at his all-black outfit. "I'm dressed like a burglar, not Bobo the Happy Clown." "Improvise. Tell them you're a ninja clown or something." "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." "Do you want to keep eating ramen noodles for dinner, or do you want to upgrade to actual food?" Bill sighed deeply, then began climbing the fence. His foot caught on the chain link, sending him tumbling face-first into a flower bed. Dirt flew everywhere as he scrambled to his feet. "Smooth," Molly muttered. A little boy with chocolate frosting on his face spotted Bill immediately. "Mommy! There's a dirty ninja in the petunias!" "No, no!" Bill called out desperately, brushing soil from his mask. "I'm here to, uh, entertain you! With my amazing ninja clown abilities!" The children gathered around him expectantly. Bill stood frozen, his mind completely blank, as Molly face-palmed behind the hedge. "Well?" demanded the birthday girl, hands on her hips. "Where are your ninja clown tricks?" Bill glanced helplessly at Molly, who was frantically miming juggling motions. This was definitely not their finest hour.