The backroom of *The Tipsy Unicorn* smelled like stale beer and regret, which was fitting because that’s exactly what Molly was feeling as she watched Bill unfold a crumpled napkin with what he insisted was a "foolproof plan." “Alright, listen,” Bill said, smoothing out the napkin like it was the Dead Sea Scrolls. “Kid’s birthday party at the community center. Parents are all distracted, sipping their overpriced lemonade, pretending they don’t hate each other. Security? Nonexistent. The presents? Piled high like a dragon’s hoard. We waltz in, grab the loot, and waltz out before anyone notices we’re not there to sing ‘Happy Birthday.’” Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. “Bill, we are *adults*. We can’t just stroll into a children’s party and start stuffing presents into our pants.” “Why not?” Bill said, genuinely confused. “We’ve done worse. Remember the time we stole a wedding cake?” “That was *one* cake, and we got chased by a bridesmaid with a butter knife!” “Exactly! And we *still* got the cake. This is easier. No one’s gonna chase us over a bunch of My Little Pony action figures.” Molly groaned. “First of all, no one’s had My Little Pony action figures since the ‘80s. Second, what’s our *cover*? We can’t just walk in there looking like a couple of washed-up criminals.” Bill grinned. “Already thought of that.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out two bright pink party hats. “We’re *entertainers*.” Molly stared. “You want us to *perform*?” “Not perform, perform. Just… you know, *mingle*. Tell some jokes. Do a magic trick. Distract the parents while I slip into the present table like a ninja.” “Bill, the last time you did a magic trick, you set a guy’s sleeve on fire.” “That was *one time*!” Bill waved a hand. “Besides, kids love fire. It’s *exciting*.” Molly rubbed her temples. “Fine. Let’s say we pull this off. How do we even *get* the presents out? We can’t exactly walk out with a shopping cart full of L.O.L. Surprise dolls.” Bill’s grin widened. “That’s the beauty of it. We don’t *walk* out. We *drive* out.” Molly blinked. “You stole a *car*?” “Borrowed,” Bill corrected. “From my cousin. He owes me for that time I didn’t rat him out to the cops about the stolen lawnmowers.” “Bill, your cousin *is* the cops.” “Exactly! So he *definitely* owes me.” Bill clapped his hands. “Alright, here’s the play. You go in first, charm the parents, maybe tell them you’re a *party planner* or something. I’ll be the *clown*—” “Absolutely not.” “—fine, the *magician*. I’ll keep the kids occupied with, I don’t know, *card tricks* or something. You slip into the back, grab the presents, and load ‘em into the van. Easy.” Molly sighed. “And what if someone recognizes us?” Bill scoffed. “From what? Our *glorious* mugshots? Please. No one looks at those. Besides, we’ll be in *costume*.” “Costume?” “Yeah! I brought props.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a fake mustache and a pair of oversized glasses. “Ta-da! Instant disguise.” Molly stared at the mustache. “That looks like it came from a dollar store Halloween section.” “It *did*,” Bill said proudly. “Best fifty cents I ever spent.” Molly pinched the bridge of her nose again. “This is the worst plan you’ve ever had.” “No, the worst plan was the time we tried to rob a bank by pretending to be health inspectors.” “…That actually worked.” “Exactly! So trust me on this.” Bill slapped the napkin. “We go in, we grab the loot, we get out. What’s the worst that could happen?” Molly opened her mouth to answer, but Bill held up a hand. “Don’t. I don’t wanna jinx it.” He stood up, adjusting his fake mustache. “Alright, partner. Let’s go make some kids *very* unhappy on their birthday.”