Molly adjusted her night vision goggles and squinted through the windshield of the dented minivan. Across the suburban street, the Montgomery residence glowed with fairy lights and the desperate screams of sugared-up children. She checked her watch. "Cake time is in fifteen. That's when the parents zone out and start checking their phones for wine delivery services." Bill tugged at his collar, sweating through his stolen pizza delivery uniform. The embroidered name tag read "Geraldo." He looked nothing like a Geraldo. "Are we sure about this? It feels wrong. Legally, sure, but morally...that's a lot of Frozen merchandise." "Morally?" Molly hissed, unfolding a crumpled crayon map of the living room. "Tommy 'The Tank' Henderson stiffed us on the Dubai job. His kid gets a mountain of Legos today. It's poetic justice with streamers." "His name is Timmy. He's six. He has asthma and a therapy dog." "Classic diversion tactic. Now listen: I go through the back door disguised as the clown, you create a distraction with the piñata." Bill raised a hand. "Two things. One, I don't know how to work a piñata. Two, you look nothing like the clown. You look like a clown who ate another clown." "I have a red nose and oversized shoes." "You're six-foot-two and scowling. The original clown is five-foot-nothing and smells like bubblegum and regret." "Details." Molly waved her hand dismissively. "Once inside, I signal you with the duck call. You release the sugar-free candy—causes chaos, parents panic about allergens, we sweep the gift table during the evacuation." "Where did you get sugar-free candy?" "Bulk store. Tastes like despair. Works fast. Kids spit it out immediately, creates a slick surface for slipping." Bill shifted uncomfortably. "What about the bouncy castle? The map shows it blocking the east exit." "Already handled." Molly patted a duffel bag. "Industrial-grade sewing kit. Five minutes after I start face-painting, that castle develops a structural integrity issue. Kids go rolling into the azaleas. Pandemonium." "You're going to pop a bouncy castle?" "Deflate. It's humane. Mostly. They'll bounce back." Bill stared at the house where a conga line of toddlers was forming. "The presents are wrapped. How do we know which ones are valuable?" "X-ray specs." "Those don't work." "These ones do. I paid extra." Molly pulled out what looked like swimming goggles with tinfoil attached. "See? High-tech military grade." "That's tinfoil from a baked potato." "Stealth tinfoil." She checked her watch again. "Three minutes. Remember the code words: 'The balloon animals are escaping' means abort. 'The cake is lava' means move to phase two. And 'Where's the bathroom' means I actually need the bathroom because these shoes are killing me." Bill sighed, picking up the empty pizza box prop. "I can't believe I'm doing this. My mother wanted me to be an accountant." "Believe it. And Bill? Try to cry when I steal the cake. Real tears. Adds authenticity." "Why do I have to cry?" "Because you're supposed to be the heartbroken clown who lost his dream of pastry school. I told you, layers. Character development." "Right. Layers." Bill opened the door. "If we go to jail, I'm blaming the sugar-free candy and your tinfoil." "Fair enough. Now smile. We're about to steal Christmas in July."