Molly lounged against the wall of the dimly lit alleyway, her well-worn combat boots crossed at the ankles, while Bill fidgeted beside her, periodically checking the oversized analog clock mounted above a closed shop's storefront. "So, you're telling me the plan is to waltz into a children's birthday party and pilfer every present with a price tag on it?" Bill asked for the umpteenth time, preserving an incredulous tone. "What could possibly go wrong?" Molly rolled her eyes. "Bill, Bill, Bill. You make it sound like we're raiding Fort Knox. This is Santino's Pizza Palace – they book the place once a week with Big Tony's Clown School. It's a goldmine." "Big Tony's Clown School? You're counting on the fact that clowns serve as an adequate distraction?" Molly grinned. "Watch and learn, my friend. We'll barge in, toss red noses to the confused parents, then sashay our way to those shiny presents. Smith & Jones Co., makin' off with our loot, one party at a time." Bill frowned, his graying hair unkempt as always. "We could get arrested." "Why, when we look this good?" Molly retorted, flipping her auburn pixie cut. "I call that plan A. Plan B involves brisk walk to Canada." "Only if we don't get caught," he mumbled. "Ah, see – that's where you're wrong," Molly said, tugging a glossy pink flyer from her jacket pocket. "The party's in full swing, entertainment included. Little Timmy might be shrieking with laughter while we swipe everything that ain't bolted down." Bill squinted at the flyer, highlighter-scrawled with notes. "Fine, you've got my attention. And?" "And our cover – we're the pizza delivery boys! Smack-dab in the middle of the action, disarmed with cheesy smiles and garlic knots. We take our sweet time, drop off the pies, then – presto! The presents are ours." Bill grudgingly nodded. "Idiosyncratic, but it just might work. And if not...well, at least we tried." "The spirit of adventure, Bill – that's the real treasure," Molly declared. "Now, let's get into character." As they entered the bustling party, Molly and Bill shouldered aside a line of parents queued at the buffet, clad in stained aprons, Snoopy bandannas, and some dubious three-wheeler decals. The air reeked of sodas, burnt cookies, and eau de wet-nappy diaphragm. Straightaway, Big Tony himself erupted from a cotton-candy haze, his bulbous nose painted bright red, rubber soles squeaking on polished linoleum. "Here we go, folks – our last act of the evening! Fear not, parents, it's the much-anticipated Acme Ape Escape!" A numbered gaggle of urchins erupted in screams and laughter as a giant blow-up ape lunged, banana-filled, around the hall. Bill set his jaw, hoisting a steaming pizza box, while Molly beamed at the expecting mothers. "Mama, mama, look! Mommy got a pie for the birthday boy!" Bill exchanged an uneasy glance with Molly; the party raged on without deviation. Theirs was the perfect heist – diversionary chaos, unwitting accomplices, and a climax snared in cotton candy clouds. With every pizza distributed – and an undetected swiped present or two – they reveled in their glorious ill-gotten gains, their triumphant laughter lost amidst the din of shrieking children and circus music.