Molly consulted the blueprints, a crayon drawing of a bouncy castle with a crudely drawn stick figure trapped inside. “So, Bill, the target: Barnaby Buttercup’s 7th Birthday Bonanza. Security: three sugar-fueled toddlers, a Golden Retriever named Sparkles, and a bouncy castle that looks like it's seen more than its fair share of… fluids.” She shuddered. Bill, polishing his lucky crowbar, a surprisingly sparkly affair, squinted at the drawing. “Barnaby, you say? Isn't he the kid who keeps trying to trade my tire iron for a half-eaten lollipop?” “The very same. And his presents? Legends say they include a remote-control drone that can deliver artisanal cheeses, and a life-sized chocolate sculpture of Captain Underpants.” Molly’s eyes gleamed with a covetous glint. “A chocolate Captain Underpants? Molly, you had me at artisanal cheeses, but now you’re just showing off.” Bill adjusted his spectacles, which were perched precariously on his nose. “Alright, let’s talk logistics. Entry points?” Molly pointed a manicured finger at a smudge on the drawing. “The ‘Emergency Clown Exit’ – apparently, Barnaby’s mum has a recurring fear of clowns getting stuck in the chimney.” “Smart woman. Never trust a clown with a full backpack.” Bill nodded sagely. “So, we’re going in disguised, obviously. What’s the theme?” Molly produced two brightly colored tutus from a tote bag. “Unicorns and rainbows, naturally. I thought you would wear the baby pink, it brings out your eyes.” Bill clutched his crowbar protectively. “The crowbar stays. And there’s no way I’m wearing that. My eyes are more of a… grimy diesel-fumes kind of color anyway.” “Oh, don’t be a spoilsport. It’s for the children! Think of the chocolate Captain Underpants, Bill!” She dangled the promise like a carrot before a particularly stubborn mule. He sighed, a long-suffering sound. “Fine. But I’m sticking to the shadows. No bouncing. And if anyone asks, I’m a rogue cloud with a severe allergy to glitter.” “Splendid! Now, Phase One: Distraction. I’ll engage the parents with my award-winning ‘Flamingo Flap’ dance – a guaranteed conversation stopper. You, meanwhile, will disable Sparkles.” Bill blinked. “Disable Sparkles? The Golden Retriever? Molly, that dog looks like it could outrun a cheetah after a triple espresso.” “Precisely. My research indicates Sparkles has a weakness for strategically placed squeaky toys and the melodious sound of ‘Who Let the Dogs Out?’ sung entirely off-key. You have a surprisingly tuneless voice, it’ll be perfect.” Bill looked genuinely affronted. “My singing voice is… unique. It has character.” “It has the character of a dying walrus, but that’s beside the point. Once Sparkles is neutralized, you proceed to the presents table. Now, here’s the tricky bit…” Molly leaned in conspiratorially. “Barnaby’s seven-year-old cousin, Penelope, is rumored to be a master of ‘The Stare.’ She can hold eye contact for an uncomfortable amount of time, making even hardened criminals confess to crimes they haven’t committed.” “A seven-year-old with ‘The Stare’?” Bill whistled low. “That’s a new one. Any known weaknesses?” Molly tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Candy floss. Lots and lots of candy floss. We’ll need a contingency plan for a sugar rush-induced rampage.” “Right. Sugar rush rampage. Got it.” Bill made a note on a napkin. “So, to recap: tutus, off-key singing, bouncy castles that hold unspeakable secrets, a seven-year-old stare-down, and a chocolate sculpture of a superhero with questionable fashion choices.” He sighed again. “This is going to be a long day.” “But a profitable one, my dear Bill. A very, very profitable one.” Molly’s smile was wide, full of mischievous intent. “Now, about this rogue cloud costume…”