Molly, perched on the edge of the dumpster, squinted through the darkness at the brightly lit house across the street. "Alright, Bill, you sure about this? It's a kids' party, for crying out loud." Bill, leaning against the wall, checked his watch. "Molly, my dear, it's not about the size of the target, but the size of the payoff. And those presents? Goldmine." Molly rolled her eyes. "You're telling me you've got a plan to steal from a bunch of kids?" Bill grinned, pulling out a bag of colorful balloons. "Not steal, Molly. Borrow. We'll return them, eventually." Molly sighed, taking the balloons. "Fine. But if we get caught, I'm blaming you." Bill chuckled. "Fair enough. Now, let's go mingle." They crossed the street, Molly inflating the balloons, Bill whistling a jaunty tune. As they approached the house, the sound of laughter and music spilled out. Bill nudged Molly. "See? They won't even notice us." They slipped inside, Molly releasing the balloons, Bill greeting the kids with a wave. "Hey there, little ones! What's all this then?" A small girl, her face painted like a tiger, looked up at him. "We're having a party! Wanna play?" Bill winked. "Maybe later, sweetheart. First, I need to find the birthday boy. Know where he is?" The girl pointed towards the living room. "He's opening presents!" Bill and Molly exchanged a glance, then headed towards the living room. As they entered, the birthday boy, a boy with a mop of curly hair, was unwrapping a present. Bill leaned in, whispering to Molly, "Alright, here's the plan. You distract the kid, I'll grab the presents." Molly raised an eyebrow. "And how do you propose I do that?" Bill grinned, pulling out a whoopee cushion. "Like this." Molly groaned, but took the whoopee cushion. As the boy opened another present, Molly leaned in, placing the cushion on his chair. The boy, oblivious, sat down, letting out a loud "POOF!" The room erupted in laughter, the boy's face turning red. Molly, trying to keep a straight face, turned to Bill. "Hurry up, before he figures out it's not a real fart." Bill, already by the present pile, nodded, quickly stuffing presents into a bag. As he finished, he looked up, his eyes widening. "Uh, Molly, we've got a problem." Molly turned, following Bill's gaze. The birthday boy's mother was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed, a stern look on her face. "And just what do you two think you're doing?"