Rain lashed the van’s windshield as Molly cracked her knuckles, staring at the brightly lit community center. Balloons bobbed in the wind, a grinning clown face on the banner flapping like it was screaming silently. “We’re robbing a Chuckles the Chicken party?” Bill said, peeling a paper clown nose off his face. “This feels evil.” “It’s not evil,” Molly said. “It’s redistributing joy. These parents overspend on lava lamps and glitter slime. We’re doing fiscal therapy.” “They’ll cry.” “They’ll insurance-claim it. We’ll be ghosts. Ninja gift thieves.” “Ninja? You’re wearing Crocs.” “They’re tactical. Silent. And roomy for toe warmers.” She passed him a black hoodie. “You’re on balloon distraction.” “Why me?” “Because last time you tripped the laser grid singing *My Heart Will Go On*.” “I was feeling it!” “Feel less this time. Grab the loot, don’t hug the toddlers.” “I’m not opposed to hugging toddlers.” “That’s kidnapping, Bill!” “They’re just so… huggable.” “We’re here for the Nintendo Switches, not emotional fulfillment.” A tiny hand pressed against the community center window. A child pointed at the van. “Uh,” Bill said. “I think we’ve been made.” Molly sighed. “Abort?” Bill adjusted his ski mask. “Nah. But after this, can we go to Build-A-Bear? I have feelings.” Molly started the engine. “Only if you name it after me.”