Molly adjusted the focus on her binoculars, staring intensely at the suburban backyard where a chaotic scene of five-year-olds unfolded. Target acquired, she whispered, her voice raspy with tension. The pile is ungoverned. I see Lego sets. I see distinct rectangular shapes that suggest high-end tablets. The payload is massive. Bill squinted through the windshield of their rusted sedan, licking orange cheese dust from his fingers. Do you see the cake? Forget the cake, Bill. We are here for the hard assets. The loot is exposed. Current security is lax. The primary guardian, codename Mom, is distracted by a juice box incident in sector four. Is that a bouncy castle? Bill asked, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and reverence. It is a distraction device, Molly snapped. A tactical lure for the hostiles. Listen to me. Did you bring the blueprints? Bill rummaged around the floor of the car among the fast-food wrappers and held up a crinkled party invitation. It says 2:00 PM to 4:00 PM. Pizza and Fun. That is the window, Molly. The window of opportunity. Two hours to pull off the job of the century, Molly said, clicking a pen nervously against the dashboard. Here is the play. We go in as The Magicians. I hired us out on the internet twenty minutes ago using a burner phone. I don't know any magic, Bill said. It is a four-year-old's birthday, Bill. You pull a quarter from behind an ear and they lose their minds. It is all about confidence. While you dazzle the crowd with your incompetence, I secure the package. Which package? The big blue one. It is the size of a microwave. I suspect it is the Mega-Station console. That is the retirement fund right there. What if they cry? Bill asked. They are children. Crying is their default state. Ignore the tears. Focus on the payload. Bill looked down at his outfit. I am wearing a tuxedo t-shirt. Is that professional enough? It says Here to Party on the back. It provides adequate cover. Now, what is exfiltration protocol? We run? No. We do not run. Running draws attention. We Conga Line out the side gate. With the gifts tucked under our coats. A Conga Line? With two people? It is high concept, Molly insisted. Do not question the method. Just keep your hands steady. If you drop that cake I will end you. I thought you said forget the cake. I changed my mind. We take the cake as a bonus. A trophy. Bill nodded solemnly. The frosting looks like buttercream. Keep your head in the game. Remember, these targets are small, fast, and sticky. Do not let them touch you. If you get hugged, you roll and disengage. Do you copy? Copy. Roll and disengage. Molly checked her watch. The musical chairs music just stopped. Tensions are high. The herd is moving toward the piñata. It is go time. Should I bring the sack? It is a burlap sack with a dollar sign painted on it, Bill. It is too conspicuous. Use the Happy Birthday trash bags I stole from the convenience store. You think of everything, Molly. That is why I am the leader. Now, put on your top hat. Let’s go ruin a childhood.