Molly adjusted her glittery party hat and leaned against the bakery’s display case, eyeing the balloon arch across the street. "Alright, Bill, we’ve got a problem. The kid’s birthday party is in a *bouncy castle*." Bill wiped frosting off his chin. "So? Bouncy castles are just glorified trampolines. We’ll bounce our way to the presents, grab ‘em, and bounce out like we’re in a *Mission: Impossible* montage." "First of all, you’re *forty-two*. Second, that thing’s got a *weight limit*." She tapped the flyer taped to the window. "Says right here: *No adults over 150 lbs or the castle will collapse like my will to live after Thanksgiving dinner*." Bill scoffed. "Please. I’m a *feather*. A *dandelion*. A—" "A *disaster waiting to happen*." Molly grabbed his arm as he reached for a cupcake. "Focus. The presents are in the back room, guarded by a *six-year-old* with a *nerf gun* and the moral high ground." "Pfft. I’ve outsmarted worse. Remember the time I distracted that security guard with a fake seagull?" "You *threw a seagull at him*." "It worked, didn’t it?" Bill grinned. "Look, we’ll go in as *party clowns*. No one suspects clowns." Molly groaned. "Clowns are *literally* the most suspicious people on earth. Also, you’re allergic to latex." "Details." Bill adjusted his suspiciously tight polka-dot pants. "Operation *Piñata Bandit* is a go."