Molly spread the crayon-drawn map across the sticky diner table, knocking over the ketchup bottle with her elbow. "Alright, Bill, this is serious business. Little Timmy Henderson is turning seven, and his parents have gone all out." Bill squinted at the colorful scribbles. "Did you draw this yourself?" "I traced it from his sister's homework folder. Focus, Bill. We've got a window of exactly two hours between the arrival of Bongo the Clown and the cutting of the cake." Bill scratched his stubbled chin. "Why are we doing this again? These are children, Molly. Actual small humans." "Because little Timmy's father is Marcus Henderson, the man who fired me from Henderson Electronics for allegedly stealing printer paper." "You did steal printer paper." "That's beside the point. The point is revenge, served cold, wrapped in dinosaur paper." The waitress refilled their coffees without making eye contact. She had learned not to ask questions about the strange pair who always ordered pancakes and spoke in hushed tones about bounce houses. Bill studied the map more closely. "What's this red X in the backyard?" "That's the present table. Sandra Henderson always puts it near the inflatable slide. The woman is predictable as clockwork." "And the blue circles?" "Those are the parents. They'll be clustered around the cooler, drinking wine from plastic cups and pretending their lives aren't hollow." Bill leaned back in the booth, crossing his arms. "How do we get past them without being noticed?" Molly grinned, pulling a crumpled shopping bag from beneath her seat. "Costumes. I managed to acquire two official Bongo the Clown assistant outfits." "There's no way I'm wearing that." "You absolutely are wearing it. The polka dots are slimming." "Molly, I have dignity." "You have a criminal record and a timeshare in Delaware. Dignity left the building years ago." Bill grabbed the bag and peered inside, his face falling at the sight of the rainbow wig. He imagined himself in the getup, squeaking across suburban grass while small children watched with their sticky fingers and judging eyes. "Fine. But I want sixty percent of whatever we fence." "These are children's toys, Bill. We're not fencing them." "Then what exactly is the plan?" Molly's eyes sparkled with mischief. She pulled out a second map, this one printed on actual paper. "We donate everything to the Riverside Orphanage. Every last present ends up with kids who actually need them." Bill stared at her for a long moment. "We're stealing from a birthday party to give to orphans?" "Think of it as aggressive philanthropy." "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." "You're still going to help me, aren't you?" Bill sighed heavily, grabbing his rainbow wig and placing it experimentally on his head. "What time does this disaster start?" "Saturday at noon. Bring your squeaky shoes."