Molly squinted through the binoculars at the bouncy castle metropolis consuming the Henderson's backyard. "Six-year-old's birthday. Prime target." Bill adjusted his clown wig, already sweating through the greasepaint. The polka-dot jumpsuit made him look less like a party entertainer and more like an escaped mental patient, which wasn't far from the truth considering their current scheme. "Guard dog?" Bill whispered. "Chihuahua named Princess Sparkles." "God help us." The presents formed a small mountain beside the patio table, wrapped in paper so bright it could guide ships to shore. Molly had done the reconnaissance: Tommy Henderson's wealthy grandparents had gone overboard this year. Remote control cars, gaming systems, enough Legos to build an actual house. They synchronized their watches—dollar store digitals that lost three minutes every hour. Bill practiced his balloon animals one last time, producing something that looked more like a crime scene than a poodle. "Remember, you're Bingo the Clown. I'm Melody the Magician. We entertain, we extract, we escape." "What about our getaway vehicle?" Molly pointed to the ice cream truck they'd "borrowed" from Bill's cousin, its speakers already broadcasting a demented version of "Turkey in the Straw" that would haunt the neighborhood's dreams for weeks.