"Check the perimeter again," Bill whispered, adjusting his overly tight clown wig. "The bouncy castle is a primary tactical blind spot." Molly squinted through her binoculars at the suburban backyard. "The bouncy castle is currently occupied by a toddler named Timmy. He is eating dirt." "Excellent. Distracted. What about the gift table?" "It is unguarded, situated north of the juice boxes," Molly confirmed. "But there is a high risk of sprinkles." "I can handle sticky fingers, Molly. I was born in the sugar trenches." "Bill, you once cried because a marshmallow stuck to your shoe." "That was an ambush! Do we have the extraction bag?" Molly patted her oversized tote. "It is disguised as a giant gift bag for a child named Barnaby. If we move now, we can bag the LEGO sets before the magician starts." "The magician is the wildcard," Bill hissed, checking his plastic flower lapel. "He has doves. Unpredictable, winged sky-rats." "Forget the birds. Focus on the booty." "Right. Operation Birthday Blues is a go." "Stop naming things, Bill. Just grab the mountain bike and run." "Roger that. For Barnaby!" "It is not for Barnaby, it is for us."