“Operation Rainbow Unicorn is a go, Bill,” Molly whispered, her voice a theatrical stage whisper, a habit he’d come to begr accept. She gestured grandly at a glitter-drenched flyer advertising ‘Princess Penelope’s 6th Birthday Bash.’ “Rainbow Unicorn? Are we going to be stealing the actual unicorn, Molly? Because I’m pretty sure it’s just a piñata.” Bill squinted at the image of a beaming child surrounded by what appeared to be at least seventeen wrapped gifts. “Don’t be pedantic, Bill. It’s a code name. And the piñata is merely a distraction. The real prize lies within those beautifully wrapped rectangles of avarice. Think of the haul! Think of the… the toasters! The terrible, novelty mugs! The slightly-too-small t-shirts from Aunt Mildred!” Molly’s eyes gleamed with a predatory joy. “Kids’ presents, Molly. We’re stealing kids’ presents.” Bill sighed, rubbing his temples. “This is a new low, even for us.” “A new low, perhaps, but a profitable one! Besides, it’s not *stealing* stealing. It’s… redistributing pre-loved plastic into the open market. We’re providing a service! And think of the sugar rush we’ll get from the discarded cake. High-stakes, high-insulin adventure, Bill!” she chirped, already sketching a crude blueprint on a napkin. “And what if little Penelope sees us? What’s the plan then? Distract her with a puppet show?” Bill asked, genuinely curious. “Better than that, Bill. We’re going to be the puppets.”