Molly spread the blueprints across the folding table, squinting at the crayon drawings that barely passed for architectural schematics. Outside their van, suburban shadows lengthened across manicured lawns while the sun dipped below the cul-de-sac. She traced a finger along the smudged line representing the fence, noting the weak point near the hydrangea bush where the dog had worn a groove. Bill shuffled in the passenger seat, his bulk making the suspension groan beneath his shifting weight. He adjusted his night vision goggles over his reading glasses, looking like a raccoon that had raided an optometrist's office. His polyester suit jacket strained against his shoulders as he reached for the stale coffee in the cupholder. "You're telling me the target is a bouncy castle?" "Fort Knox has nothing on this thing," Bill said, adjusting his belt with a mechanical click that echoed in the quiet van. "It's reinforced mesh with a military clown guarding it." Molly tapped the diagram with her pencil, leaving a graphite smudge beside the crayon dragon that represented the snack table. "We go in during the piñata. When the kids charge for candy, we rappel down from the oak tree." "Rappel? Molly, I'm forty-seven. My knees sound like popcorn." "Fine. We shimmy. But we bypass the perimeter security." "You mean the piñata?" "I mean Mrs. Henderson. She caught me casing the place yesterday. Asked why my lens cap was drawn on with Sharpie." Bill peeled the wrapper from a granola bar. "So we improvise. Classic smash-and-grab." "Bill, these are children. We can't terrify them. We wear the mascot costumes." He choked on his oats, crumbs spraying across the dashboard like shrapnel. "The what now?" "We go in as T-Rexes. Big heads, tiny arms, perfect for concealing presents." "Have you seen my shoulders? I'm a stegosaurus at minimum." Molly pulled two laminated badges from her pocket, blowing dust off the lanyards she had crafted that morning at the copy shop near the mall. "You're 'Stompy,' I'm 'Chompy.' We sign autographs, then wheel the gift table out to the van." "What about the dog?" "Peanut butter in a Kong toy. He'll be busy till Christmas." Bill sighed, rubbing his temples with his greasy hands, leaving a sheen of oatmeal across his forehead. His shoulders slumped. "I used to rob banks, Molly. I had dignity." "You had a subpoena. Now you have cake." "Point taken. But if that clown makes me a balloon animal, I'm tasing him." "No tasing civilians! This is a soft target." "He's ex-military!" "He's sixty with a peg leg!" Bill stood, cracking his neck with a sound like stepping on dry twigs in a silent forest. "Fine. But I'm keeping the taser in my tail." Molly grinned, checking her watch against the dashboard clock while adjusting her black turtleneck. "Party starts in twenty. Remember: claws up, smiles on, and if anyone asks why we're sweating, reptiles are cold-blooded." "We're mammals in foam rubber." "Technicalities, Bill. Now stuff your tail."