The flickering neon of Benny’s Discount Groceries cast lurid stripes across their crumpled blueprints. Molly traced a finger over a crudely drawn “Ball Pit Zone.” “So, the main haul, the big ticket items,” Molly whispered, her voice raspy from too much cheap whiskey and excited planning. “That’s in the gift area, directly south of the bouncy castle.” Bill squinted, a half-eaten donut clutched in his grimy fist. “South of the bouncy castle, got it. But what about the loot that’s, you know, being *opened*?” “Ah, that’s Phase Two, my dear Bill,” she winked, her eyes glinting. “The chaos factor. Once they’re distracted by… you know… glitter glue explosions and a particularly enthusiastic rendition of ‘Happy Birthday,’ we slip in, snag the prime real estate.” “Glitter glue? You’re sure about this Molly?” “Absolute certainty. You underestimate the power of sticky, inescapable sparkle. Plus, imagine their little faces. Pure, unadulterated, toy-less despair. It’ll be magnificent.” Bill licked a dollop of powdered sugar from his lip. “Magnificent. And the cake?” Molly shuddered. “No. Absolutely not. That’s where they *expect* us. We’re artists, Bill. We’re professionals. We steal joy, not diabetes.”