The blue minivan idled at the curb, its engine purring with the menace of a drowsy cat. Inside, Molly adjusted her tactical turtleneck, checking the reflection in the rearview mirror to ensure her eyeliner was sharp enough to kill. Beside her, Bill was currently wrestling with a polyester clown suit that smelled faintly of desperation and cheap glitter. "I look ridiculous," Bill grunted, trying to force the zipper up over his hips. "I look like a gumdrop that gave up on life." "Focus, Bill. Appearances are everything. You’re not a gumdrop; you’re Bippo the Classy Fool. You’re the key to the entire operation." Molly tapped the dashboard with a manicured fingernail. "Target is three minutes out. The parents are distracted by the bounce house. The security detail—that Golden Retriever, Buster—is currently chasing his tail in the backyard. We have a window." "A window for what? Stealing a six-year-old’s birthday haul?" Bill sighed, finally getting the zipper to catch. "We used to knock over banks, Molls. Now we’re lifting Legos?" "It’s not Legos. It’s the *Ultimate Construction Set*. And the unopened gaming console. Do you know the markup on unopened consoles? We’re looking at a 300% return on investment." Molly looked at him, her eyes deadly serious. "We aren’t just thieves, Bill. We are agents of fiscal redistribution." "We’re stealing from kids." "We’re saving them from the corruption of materialism. Now, listen to the briefing. When we get in there, you engage the host. Use the balloon animals. Create a spectacle." "I don't know how to make balloon animals. I know how to pick locks and hotwire a Honda." "Just twist the rubber until it looks like a dog or a giraffe, or simply make a long, phallic shape and blame it on the wind. Just keep their eyes off the prize table." Molly opened her door, letting in the humid air. "I’ll be moving toward the loot pile under the cover of the 'Hokey Pokey'." "The Hokey Pokey?" "It’s chaotic cover. Everyone’s putting their left foot in, shaking it all about. It’s the perfect visual disruption." Bill stepped out, his oversized rubber shoes flopping against the pavement. "I never thought I’d say this, but I miss the razor wire." "Move out. And remember, if anyone asks, you’re here for the cake." Molly checked her watch. "We’ve got twelve minutes before the piñata comes out. That thing is a death trap; we want to be gone before the candy shrapnel starts flying." "Right. Grab the presents. Don't get hit by the bat." Bill trudged toward the suburban house, the sound of children's laughter drifting toward him. "If I get arrested dressed like this, I’m telling the cops you forced me." "Read me my rights, Bippo," Molly whispered, sprinting toward the side gate. "Let's go get rich."