Molly tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for Bill to arrive. The dingy alleyway behind Chuckle's Pizza Palace reeked of stale grease and disappointment. Finally, she spotted her partner waddling towards her, his beer belly preceding him by several inches. "You're late," Molly hissed as Bill approached. "Sorry, got held up at the liquor store. Needed some liquid courage for this job," Bill replied, patting his jacket pocket where a flask clinked softly. Molly rolled her eyes. "We're robbing a kid's birthday party, not Fort Knox. Pull yourself together." "Hey, kids can be vicious. Remember that time at the playground?" Bill shuddered at the memory. "Focus, Bill. We need to go over the plan one more time." Bill nodded, trying to look serious. "Right, right. So, we sneak in through the back door..." "No, you idiot," Molly interrupted. "We're going in through the front, disguised as clowns." "Clowns? I hate clowns. They give me the creeps." "That's rich coming from a guy about to steal from children. Now listen up. We go in, blend in with the entertainment, and when everyone's distracted by the cake..." "We grab the presents and make a run for it," Bill finished, looking pleased with himself. Molly nodded. "Exactly. And remember, we're only taking the big ones. No sense risking our necks for some cheapo coloring books." "Got it. But what if the kids notice us taking their stuff?" "That's why we have these," Molly said, pulling out two intimidating-looking water guns. "Filled with grape soda. One squirt and they'll be too sticky to chase us." Bill's eyes widened. "Brilliant! You always think of everything, Molly." "Someone has to. Now, let's go over our clown personas. I'm Giggles McSprinkles, and you're..." "Boozy the Bozo?" Bill suggested hopefully. Molly glared at him. "Bubbles. You're Bubbles the Clown. And so help me, if I smell alcohol on your breath during this job..." "Alright, alright. Bubbles it is," Bill grumbled. "But how am I supposed to make balloon animals? I can barely tie my own shoelaces." "Just make snakes. Lots and lots of snakes." Bill nodded, then frowned. "Wait, won't the parents get suspicious if two new clowns suddenly show up?" "Already taken care of," Molly smirked. "I called the party company and canceled the real clowns. Said the birthday boy developed a severe case of coulrophobia." "Coulro-what-now?" "Fear of clowns, you nitwit. Now, are you ready to do this?" Bill took a deep breath and puffed out his chest. "Ready as I'll ever be. Let's go rob some ankle-biters!" Molly cringed. "Please don't ever say that again. And remember, we're in and out in twenty minutes, tops. Any longer and we risk someone recognizing us." "Roger that. In and out like a..." "If you say 'like a clown car,' I swear I'll leave you here," Molly warned. Bill closed his mouth abruptly, then asked, "So, uh, where'd you hide the clown costumes?" Molly pointed to a nearby dumpster. "In there. I hope you're not afraid of a little trash juice." As Bill grimaced and moved towards the dumpster, Molly shook her head and muttered, "The things I do for a quick buck. Next time, we're sticking to banks."