Molly adjusted the hot pink balaclava as glitter rained down onto the sticky, chocolate-stained blueprint spread across the car dashboard. It was a disgrace. "Stop scratching your neck," Bill hissed, eyeing the colorful bouncy castle with a deep frown. "We have a strict schedule to keep." "This cheap polyester chafes," Molly snapped, checking her watch with nervous fingers. "Why are we robbing a six-year-old named Timmy today?" "Focus on the payload," Bill whispered, pointing at the colorful wrapped boxes near the cake. "That’s the motherlode, absolutely loaded with toys." "They’re wearing pointy hats," Molly observed, shaking her head in total disbelief. "This feels morally wrong, Bill." "It’s simple economics," Bill reasoned, adjusting his heavy tactical goggles despite the sun. "We supply the theft, they supply the tears." "You’re an idiot," Molly sighed, picking the lock of the rusty garden gate. "I’m driving the getaway car, just watch." "Fine by me," Bill said, sprinting toward the giant pink unicorn piñata. "Honk twice if you see a mime."