Molly unrolled the blueprints across the van's dashboard. They weren’t blueprints, but a hastily sketched map of a suburban backyard on a greasy pizza box lid. A large, wobbly circle was labeled 'BOUNCY CASTLE OF DOOM'. Another lopsided rectangle was 'Present Table - The Motherlode.' Bill squinted, chewing morosely on a licorice stick. He pointed a sticky finger at the bouncy castle diagram. The whole operation felt beneath him. Last week, they'd been scoping out the national mint. This week, they were strategizing an infiltration past a clown named Patches. The sugar-high security detail, aged five to eight, would be a formidable, unpredictable force. Molly, however, was treating it with the solemnity of cracking Fort Knox. She tapped the pizza box with a manicured nail, a glint in her eye. "A bouncy castle? How do we get past something like that?" Molly produced a long, gleaming metal spike from her coat. "With this industrial-grade pin. It will be the quietest pop ever." Bill just sighed, the mournful sound lost in the faint, distant noise of children screaming with pure joy. He truly needed a new line of work.