The alley behind Bounce ’n’ Slurp Party Palace stank of sour cheese puffs and existential dread. Molly adjusted her glitter-flecked balaclava. “You sure this is the place? Looks like a unicorn puked on a Chuck E. Cheese.” Bill, tugging at his too-tight Spider-Man mask, checked his clipboard. “Eight birthdays, three piñatas, and a guaranteed mountain of presents. Kids bring double when they’re scared of clowns.” “So we’re robbing traumatized toddlers? That’s low, Bill.” “Low? This is peak capitalism! They’ve got gift bags with miniature playdough. That’s, like, solid gold for craft stores on the dark web.” Molly squinted. “You really think Play-Doh is liquid?” “Listen, I’ve seen things. A Lego set alone could fund our escape to Belize. All we need is a distraction.” “A distraction? At a kid’s party? Bill, the last time you said that, we ended up in a llama petting zoo.” “Hey, that llama liked me. But this time—balloon animals. I’ll sneak in as the entertainer.” “You don’t know how to make balloon animals.” “I can twist one into a dog-shaped threat. You grab the loot during the cake chaos.” “And if we get caught?” “We tell them it’s an immersive theater experience. ‘The Night the Presents Blew Up.’ They’ll love it. Kids love explosions.” “Bill, there are no explosions.” “There will be when I microwave a glow stick. Art, Molly. It’s art.” She sighed. “Next time, we rob a bank.” “Banks don’t have free cupcakes.”