Molly slammed a juice box onto the blueprint, the straw piercing the foil with tactical precision. She surveyed the suburban backyard through high-powered binoculars, zooming in on the streamers fluttering menacingly in the wind. The target was heavily fortified by a perimeter of festive balloons. "The package is located behind the confetti line," Molly whispered, her voice gravelly. "Intel suggests a haul of Paw Patrol merchandise." Bill adjusted his neon face paint, sweating nervously. "What about the heavy muscle? I see a clown." "That’s Bongo," she replied, not looking up. "He’s got a squeaky nose and a hair-trigger temper. Avoid the balloon animals; they pop loud." "And the perimeter breach?" "We strike during the 'Happy Birthday' song. The parents will be distracted recording on their phones. We enter through the bouncy castle exhaust port." Bill frowned, tapping the paper map. "That seems tight. What if the sugar rush peaks early?" "Then we abort via the slip-and-slide," Molly said. "Do you want the limited edition action figures or not?" "I want them," Bill whimpered. "Then put on your party hat," she commanded, racking the slide on her Super Soaker. "It’s time to ruin a childhood."