Molly leaned against the rusty dumpster, her eyes darting left and right as she waited for Bill to arrive. The alley behind Freddy's Fun Factory reeked of stale popcorn and spilled soda. She checked her watch for the third time in as many minutes. Finally, Bill's lanky frame appeared at the end of the alley. He sauntered towards her, a goofy grin plastered on his face. "You're late," Molly hissed as he approached. Bill shrugged. "Relax, we've got plenty of time. The party doesn't start for another hour." Molly rolled her eyes. "That's not the point. We need to go over the plan again." "What's there to go over? We sneak in, grab the presents, and sneak out. Easy peasy." "It's not that simple, and you know it," Molly said, exasperation creeping into her voice. "We need to blend in with the other parents and kids." Bill's eyebrows shot up. "Wait, what? I thought we were just gonna wait until everyone was distracted by the clown or something." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. "No, Bill. That's too risky. We need to be inside from the start." "But I didn't bring a kid costume," Bill whined. "You don't need a kid costume," Molly said, fighting the urge to smack him upside the head. "You're going to be a dad, and I'll be a mom." Bill's face scrunched up in confusion. "But we don't look anything alike. How are we gonna pretend to be married?" Molly sighed. "We don't have to be married. We can be divorced parents who are trying to make it work for little Timmy's sake." "Who's Timmy?" "Our imaginary son, you idiot!" Bill held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. I get it. So, what's our backstory?" Molly reached into her bag and pulled out two name tags. She handed one to Bill. "You're Doug, I'm Sharon. We met in college, got married young, had Timmy, then realized we weren't right for each other. But we're both here today because we love our son and want him to have a good time at his friend's party." Bill nodded, a look of concentration on his face. "Got it. And while everyone's distracted by the party games, we'll sneak into the gift room and stuff our bags full of presents." "Exactly," Molly said, a small smile of pride crossing her face. "See? I knew you could get it if you tried." "One question, though," Bill said, scratching his head. "What if someone asks us where Timmy is?" Molly's smile faltered. "Uh, we'll say he's in the bathroom." "For the whole party?" "If we have to, yes," Molly snapped. "Now come on, we need to get into character." As they walked towards the entrance of Freddy's Fun Factory, Bill turned to Molly with a mischievous grin. "Hey, Sharon?" "What is it, Doug?" Molly replied, already slipping into her role. "I'm glad we're doing this for our boy. Maybe there's hope for us after all." Molly couldn't help but chuckle. "Don't push it, Doug. Let's just get through this party without strangling each other." With that, they pushed open the doors and stepped into the chaos of screaming children, harried parents, and the sickly sweet smell of birthday cake. The heist was on.