The vinyl of the diner booth stuck to the back of Molly’s thighs. She slid a crumpled napkin across the table. On it, a crude diagram of a suburban backyard, complete with a gift table circled in red. “Okay, run it back one more time,” she said, her voice low. “In and out, ten minutes, tops.” Bill, using a french fry as a pointer, tapped the drawing. “Ten minutes? But what about the bouncy castle? You can’t rush a bouncy castle experience, Molly. It’s about the journey, not the destination.” “We are not getting in the bouncy castle, Bill. We’re there for the presents. The payload. The brightly wrapped loot.” “Right, right, the payload.” He took a bite of the fry. “But the presents are *for* the kids. Are we the bad guys in this scenario? I feel like we’re the bad guys.” Molly rubbed her temples. “We’re professional thieves, Bill. Our moral compass spins like a roulette wheel. Now, focus. The diversion.” “The piñata!” Bill’s eyes lit up. “I was thinking, what if I dressed up as the piñata? They’d never see it coming. I’d just… stand there. Absorb the anticipation. Then, when the time is right, I burst open, but instead of candy, it’s smoke bombs!” “No. You are not dressing up as a piñata,” Molly said, gripping her coffee mug. “We stick to the plan. I create a distraction by ‘winning’ the three-legged race. While the parents are fawning over my athletic prowess, you sneak the gift table into the van.” “But what if I win the three-legged race? I’ve been practicing.” “You can’t even walk and chew gum at the same time, Bill. Your job is to lift. My job is to be vaguely sporty.” “Okay, okay…” He leaned back, the booth groaning in protest. “But if there’s a clown, I get to steal his nose. That’s non-negotiable.” Molly stared at him for a long moment, then sighed. “Fine. You can steal the stupid nose. Now, pass the ketchup. This meatloaf isn’t going to pretend to be edible by itself.”