The air hung thick with the scent of lukewarm pizza and melting cake frosting. Molly wrinkled her nose, pushing a stray curl away from her eyes. "This is truly evil, Bill. Ruining a bunch of sugar-crazed six-year-olds' day for a pile of plastic junk." Bill, decked out in a garish clown wig and a rainbow-striped sweater vest two sizes too small, popped a red lollipop in his mouth. "Think of it as...redistribution of wealth. Besides, these brats are swimming in presents. Half of them probably haven't even learned to read yet. They wouldn't know the difference between a Barbie and a block of cheese." Molly adjusted the oversized panda ears perched on her head, trying to ignore the sticky residue left on her cheek from the makeshift face paint. "Easy for you to say, you're the one who gets to wear the cute clown shoes." Bill twisted his foot, grimacing. "These things are instruments of torture disguised as footwear. But a necessary evil. Nothing screams 'Harmless Entertainer' quite like a giant red nose and shoes that squeak with every step." "Let's just get this over with," Molly muttered, checking the lock on the inflatable bouncy castle for the tenth time. "Remember the plan? You distract, I grab, we ghost." "Distract is a generous term." Bill grumbled. "More like 'barely survive a barrage of sugar-fueled projectiles hurdled by tiny, sticky-handed assassins'." Kids shrieked with laughter from somewhere inside. Molly knew this was bad. "They sound halfway to a sugar coma already. No complaints now, Bill." "Alright, alright." Bill pulled a kazoo from his pocket, tested it with a mournful squeak, and grinned. "Operation: Clown Catastrophe is a go!" With a final roll of her eyes, Molly ducked into the bouncy castle, the air within smelling faintly of chlorine and desperation. She could hear Bill outside, launching into a disastrous rendition of "Happy Birthday" on the kazoo, punctuated by the shrieks and giggles of the children. This was going to be harder than she thought. As she stealthily weaved through the brightly colored plastic tunnels, weaving around giggling kids, Molly realized Bill might actually be onto something. Some of the presents here were impressive. A remote-controlled dinosaur, a shimmering dollhouse bigger than her head, and a tent shaped like a spaceship. She started stuffing loot into a garbage bag, careful not to let anything fall out of the inflatable castle and alert the pint-sized guardians. It wasn’t exactly stealing from the rich, but hey, a thief's gotta steal. Suddenly, a small voice pierced through the chaos, "Mister Clown, why are you sad?" Bill’s panicked squeak of “Uh... clown...confused… happy!” echoed from the outside. "Don't get caught," Molly hissed to herself, stuffing another squirming, oversized teddy bear into the bag.