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 stared at the blueprints spread across the sticky table. “Alright, Bill,” she said, tapping a finger on the paper. “We’re breaking into a *children’s party*. A *kids’ party*. You realize that, right? We’re not robbing a diamond vault or a mobster’s safe. We’re stealing from a room full of five-year-olds.” Bill didn’t look up from the bag of gummy worms he was methodically sorting by color. “First of all, those kids are *loaded*. Their parents are all tech bro millionaires or trust fund babies. Second, it’s *easier* than a diamond vault. No lasers, no pressure plates, no guys named ‘Vinnie’ with shotguns. Just a bunch of rug rats and a piñata.” Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. “A piñata. *A piñata*, Bill. You want to steal presents while a room full of children are screaming and swinging sticks at a donkey.” “Exactly!” Bill grinned, popping a green gummy into his mouth. “Chaos is our friend. While they’re all distracted by the sugar rush and the promise of candy, we waltz in, grab the loot, and waltz out. It’s *poetry*.” “It’s a *felony*.” “Details.” He waved a hand. “Now, the good news is, the party’s at the *Grand Ballroom of the Silver Spoon Hotel*. Fancy place, high ceilings, lots of exits. The bad news? Security’s tight. They’ve got a guy at the door checking invitations, and the presents are all piled up in a side room under the watch of *Mindy*, the party planner from hell.” Molly groaned. “Mindy? The one who once pepper-sprayed a dad for bringing the wrong brand of juice boxes?” “The *very* same.” Bill nodded solemnly. “But here’s the thing—Mindy’s got a weakness.” “Please tell me it’s not more gummy worms.” “Nope. It’s *glitter*.” Molly blinked. “Glitter.” “Yep. Woman’s got a *condition*. She sees it, she *loses her mind*. We get some of that stuff, toss it in the air, and while she’s having an existential crisis trying to clean it up, we make our move.” Molly leaned back in her chair, considering. “So let me get this straight. Our plan is to break into a kids’ party, distract the party planner with glitter, and steal presents while a room full of children are hopped up on cake and juice.” Bill beamed. “You got it.” “And if we get caught?” “Then we tell them we’re the *entertainment*.” Molly sighed. “We’re going to jail.” “Nah.” Bill shook his head. “Worst case, we get *community service*. And hey, at least we’ll be working with kids. You love kids.” “I *hate* kids.” “See? Perfect.” Bill clapped his hands. “Now, let’s talk about the getaway. We’re gonna need a *distraction*.” Molly rubbed her temples. “Oh god. What kind of distraction?” Bill’s grin widened. “A *clown*.” Molly stood up so fast her chair screeched. “Absolutely not.” “Come on! Clowns are *classic*! No one suspects a clown!” “Because clowns are *terrifying*! People see a clown and they *run*!” “Exactly!” Bill threw his hands up. “While they’re all running, we grab the presents and *bam*—we’re out the door.” Molly stared at him for a long moment. Then she reached into her pocket, pulled out a twenty, and slapped it on the table. “I’m buying a one-way ticket to Mexico. You’re on your own.” Bill snatched the bill before she could change her mind. “Deal. But if you change your mind, the clown costume’s in the trunk of my car.” Molly turned and walked out, muttering under her breath. Bill called after her, “Don’t forget the glitter!”