The air in the basement smelled of stale pizza and damp concrete, a scent Bill had come to associate with poor life choices. Molly, however, seemed energized by it. She stood over a rickety card table, her pointer jabbing at a crayon-drawn map of a suburban backyard. The diagram, rendered in alarming shades of magenta and cerulean, featured a lopsided house and a scrawling, spiky circle labeled ‘Bouncy Castle of Doom’. “The target is Timmy’s seventh birthday party,” Molly announced, her voice a low, serious thrum. “Guest arrival is at two p.m. Parental supervision is estimated to be three adults, distracted by a cooler of what I can only assume is cheap Chardonnay. The presents will be on a designated table in the patio area. That’s our primary objective.” Bill sighed, a man defeated by the sheer absurdity of it all. He picked at a loose thread on his jeans. “We’re really doing this? Stealing from a kid? A kid named Timmy?” “We’re liberating unearned assets,” Molly corrected, not looking up from her masterpiece of criminal cartography. “Timmy hasn’t worked for these gifts. We have. It’s the principle of the thing.” “The principle of stealing a Lego set,” Bill muttered. “The principle of the heist,” she snapped, finally meeting his gaze. “Now, the main obstacle is the horde. A pack of seven-year-olds hopped up on frosting is more unpredictable than a narcotic-sniffing badger. We need a distraction.” Bill snorted. “Molly, they *are* the distraction. We just walk in, grab the loot, and walk out. No one will notice.” “No. It’s sloppy. We need a controlled diversion. I was thinking we could trigger a sprinkler head.” “And get everything wet? Including the haul? No.” Bill leaned forward, a grim idea forming. “I have a better plan. The pinata.” Molly’s eyes narrowed. “The glittery donkey?” “That’s the one.” Bill allowed himself a small, predatory smile. “I go in, ‘help’ the kids with the bat. One good swing, and it’s a shower of cheap candy and plastic gewgaws. Total chaos. While they’re scrabbling for a Tootsie Roll, you grab the presents. It’s perfect.” Molly considered it, tapping a finger against her chin. A slow smile spread across her face. “The Pinata Gambit… I like it. It’s elegant in its brutality. What’s the extraction point?” “The minivan. And I’m driving straight to a car wash. I’m not getting glitter in the upholstery. That stuff never comes out.”