The alley behind Bouncy Castle Kingdom reeked of bubblegum disinfectant and existential despair. Molly crouched behind a dumpster painted like a clown’s face, binoculars pressed to her eyes. Her neon pink wig had seen better days—one curl now resembled a sad snail. Bill tiptoed up, adjusting his fake mustache. "You've been staring at that bounce house for twenty minutes. Did you fall in love with a moonwalk?" Molly lowered the binoculars. "I'm scouting, Bill. Precision. Discipline. Unlike someone who showed up dressed as a birthday clown." "I *am* blending in," Bill said, puffing his chest. His oversized shoes squeaked. "And I brought the satchel." He held it up—a polka-dot tote with a glittery handle shaped like a rainbow. Molly groaned. "Did you *buy* that at the party store on the way here?" "I thought it looked festive. Plus, it says 'I’m a Pinata Pal!'" "That’s not reassuring. Those kids will *think* you’re real. What if they start whacking you?" "Then I scream, drop the sack, and ruin the whole operation. Fair point." Molly tossed him a gray hoodie. "Put this on. And lose the squeaky shoes." "But the ensemble—" "Bill. This heist is time-sensitive. The parents open the presents at 3:30 sharp, and then what? No more loot. Just half-eaten cake and emotional instability." "Fine," he muttered, shoving off the shoes. "But I *felt* like a whimsical menace." "Great. You can feel that *after* we're rich. Now, here’s the plan. You distract the clown—real one, not you—with a fake health inspection." "I know which clown, Molly. I’ve been doing reconnaissance too. His name’s Bubbles." "Of course it is. You distract Bubbles. I slip in through the ball pit access hatch—" "The *what*?" "There’s a maintenance panel behind the ball pit. I saw it when I dropped Toby off for his unicorn-themed meltdown." "Wait, Toby was here last week?" "I said *meltdown*, not *party*." Bill squinted. "So you want me to fake an inspection… how?" "Badge. Clipboard. Bad accent. Say the sprinklers are contaminated with glitter glue. Panic works." “And you’ll be in the ball pit?” “Not *in* it. Behind it. There’s a storage closet full of unopened gifts. We hit it fast, stuff the loot in the satchel, and vanish.” “What if a kid sees you?” Molly smirked. "Kids believe what they’re told. If I whisper, 'I’m the Easter Bunny’s cousin, Surprise,' they’ll just ask for candy." "And if a parent sees you?" “Then I cry and claim I’m emotionally lost and just wanted to feel joy again.” Bill nodded slowly. "You’re terrifyingly good at this." "It’s called lived experience." He checked his watch. "It’s 2:58. Showtime?" "Almost. One more thing." "What?" Molly reached into her jacket and pulled out tiny elf hats. "We wear these. For unity." Bill stared. "Absolutely not." "It’s tradition! Every heist needs a theme." "This *is* a children’s party, Molly. We’re already living inside a theme." "Fine. But if we get caught, *you* explain why you were dressed as a clown carrying other people’s gifts." "…I’ll say it’s for charity." "Exactly. Now put the hat on." He sighed, tugging the green felt hat over his ears. "This feels like a spiritual violation." "Just remember the code phrase if something goes wrong." "Which is?" "*‘The cake is a lie.’*" "That’s from a video game." "Still works. Kids won’t get it. Perfect.” Bill took a deep breath. "Ready. Let’s steal Christmas, Easter, and every birthday in between." Molly adjusted her wig. "Thirty seconds. And Bill?" "Yeah?" "Try not to hug any toddlers." “I make no promises.”