Molly adjusted the fake mustache perched precariously on her upper lip. “You sure about this, Bill? We’re not exactly known for our subtlety… and those are some pretty tough customers.” Bill snorted, adjusting his own disguise – a gigantic polka-dot bow tie and a pair of oversized, brightly-colored sunglasses. “Please, Molly, have a little faith. Besides, when you're dealing with a pack of sugar-crazed five-year-olds, 'subtlety' goes out the window faster than you can say 'pin the tail on the donkey'.” He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, smoothing it out on the table. “Alright, operation 'Birthday Bling' commences in ten. You distract the miniature humans with your unparalleled balloon animal skills, while I, under the guise of 'Bumbling Burt the Birthday Clown,' make off with the loot.” Molly raised an eyebrow. “'Bumbling Burt'? Really, Bill? You put more effort into naming your goldfish." "Hey, it's a work in progress! And besides, the name’s not important. What matters is the plan.” He tapped the paper with a flourish. “Now, remember: we're after the big-ticket items. Forget the stuffed animals and plastic toys. We’re talking diamond-encrusted tiaras, solid gold toy cars…” “You know those are just rumors, right?” "Rumors based on the exorbitant wealth of the birthday boy's parents, darling. Trust me, they wouldn’t be caught dead gifting their precious spawn anything less than a miniature yacht.” "Of course, Bill. What was I thinking?” Molly shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. “Alright, let’s do this. But if I see even a whiff of real diamonds, I'm grabbing it and leaving you to handle the cake-fueled aftermath.” Bill chuckled. "Deal. Now, where's my oversized shoes? A clown's gotta make an entrance, you know."