The metallic interior of the beaten-up van smelled predominantly of stale coffee and nervous sweat, a scent profile perfectly engineered to discourage any potential customers. Molly sat in the driver’s seat, her legs folded beneath her like a pretzel in a straightjacket. She adjusted the high-waisted waistband of her tactical tactical cat onesie, the neon yellow fabric clashing violently with the gloom of the dashboard lighting. Beside her, Bill was attempting to camouflage himself behind a mountain of tactical potato chips, his expression terrified. "You look like a yellow dalmatian that ate a radioactive glow stick," Bill whispered, peering through the dusty windshield. "It’s called stealth camouflage," Molly said, reaching into her saddlebag to retrieve a pair of binoculars that smelled faintly of mothballs. "It makes me blend into the environment. The environment here is mainly yellow and ridiculous." "The environment here is also a suburban cul-de-sac where my mom lives," Bill countered, dropping his voice another octave. "If she sees me in a cat onesie carrying a bag of chips, I have to move to Europe." "Think of the reward. The loot is magnificent," Molly whispered, zooming the binoculars in on the driveway of 44 Maple Drive. "Look at that stack of presents. It’s a pyramid of sin. If we don't take it, someone is going to buy a subscription to something they definitely don't need." "The guard rotation is changing," Molly announced, lowering the binoculars and dropping her voice to a conspiratorial hiss. "The toddler in the fire truck romper is heading for the cake table." "Do we have a distraction?" Bill gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned the color of his shirt. "I can honk the horn. I can do a car alarm sound." "No, you moron. We use the bouncy castle's wiring. I rigged it earlier to the doorbell. Every time it rings, the castle inflates a little bit more." "That sounds incredibly dangerous. Why did we do that?" "Because children love inflating things and parents hate noise." Molly opened the van door and slid out into the summer heat, the rubber of her cat paws squeaking against the asphalt. She grabbed the bag of tactical chips and the remote control she had modified from a children’s toy store intercom. "Go to the cake," Molly commanded, shoving the remote into Bill’s hands. "Just ring the doorbell. The castle does the rest. I’ll grab the loot." Bill stood rooted to the spot, looking from the remote to the empty field between the van and the house. "You’re going to steal presents in front of the security cameras again?" "Bill. The remote. The cake. Now." With a shaking hand, Bill pushed the button. A loud electronic chime erupted from the front door. Immediately, a loud hissing sound filled the air from the plastic castle at the edge of the yard. The fabric of the bouncer began to strain, bulging outward like a belly being inflated. The toddler in the fire truck romper dropped his plastic shovel and pointed at the castle, his eyes wide. Molly took off like a racehorse released from a gate, her neon yellow tail flapping furiously behind her. Bill stood frozen for a second, staring at the inflating bouncy castle, before slamming the van door and sprinting after her, yelling about medical emergencies that didn't exist.