In the grimy, dimly lit back alley behind the bustling party store, Molly and Bill huddled together, their breath visible in the chilly night air. Molly, a petite woman with a penchant for bright red lipstick and an even brighter mind, was the mastermind behind their heists. Bill, her lanky, awkward accomplice, was more of a 'muscle' in the sense that he could lift things, not in the sense that he was intimidating. Molly consulted her worn notebook, flipping through pages filled with scrawled plans and diagrams. "Alright, Bill," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "Tonight's target is the Johnson's kid's birthday party. They've got a mountain of presents, and we're gonna make off with the lot." Bill gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing like a buoy in a stormy sea. "Molly, are you sure about this? I mean, it's a kid's party. They're gonna be devastated." Molly rolled her eyes, her red lips curling into a smirk. "Bill, we're thieves, not philanthropists. Besides, it's not like we're stealing their childhood. They'll get over it. Now, here's the plan: we'll pose as clowns, slip in during the chaos, and make our getaway before they even realize what's happened." Bill's face paled, his freckles standing out like constellations. "Clowns, Molly? Really?" She patted his arm, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Don't worry, Bill. You'll be the life of the party. Just remember, stay in character, and for god's sake, don't honk the nose." Bill nodded, his shoulders slumping in resignation. "Alright, Molly. Let's do this." As they slipped away into the night, their laughter echoed through the alley, a symphony of mischief that promised a night of chaos and confusion. Little did the Johnson's know, their little angel's birthday party was about to become the crime of the century. Or at least, the most ridiculous one.