"We really shouldn't, Molls," Bill said, eyeing the piñata like it was a ticking bomb. The inflatable bounce house glowed with toxic purple neon under the streetlamp, casting a grotesque shadow over the lawn. "Everyone knows parties are a soft target, Bill. Especially when the loot is in that giant bag over there." "That’s a Spider-Man piñata, not presents." "To the parents, it’s raw cash waiting to be spent on college funds. To us, it’s our rent." "Rent? Again? We did the dentist office last week." "That was a clerical error. This is a *heist*." Bill nervously scratched his chin. "I saw the clown. He’s wearing three masks." "Just stay behind the velvet rope." "And the noise? It’s deafening." "We take the Golden Child hostage. That usually shuts them up." "Molly, we are stealing wrapped gifts from toddlers." "It’s about the principle. Also, I saw a high-end bracelet at that cake table." "Then let's go. Before the birthday boy blows out the candles and we miss the smoke screen."