Molly and Bill crouched behind a massive clown cutout, eyeing the children’s party like hawks surveying prey. The colorful balloons and joyful screams of kids in various stages of sugar-induced mayhem filled the air. A particularly tall clown juggled inexpertly in the corner, providing the perfect cover for their shenanigans. "Okay, Bill, we’ve gotta be slicker than melted butter on this one," Molly whispered, her eyes gleaming with mischievous determination. Bill nodded, adjusting his comically large glasses that somehow made him look both scholarly and ridiculous. "I've got the big sack ready for all the loot. Did you scope out where they stashed the presents?" Molly pointed discreetly with her thumb to a corner guarded by a sleepy teen in a dinosaur costume. "Over there by Rex the Regretful. But keep your eye on the piñata—it’s our decoy when things get tight." Bill’s eyebrows shot up. "Rex the Regretful? Seriously?" "Hey, not everyone dreams of getting paid in jelly beans," Molly shrugged. "Now focus. We’ve got three minutes before the cake distraction.” As if on cue, a boisterous ruckus erupted at the cake table. One very enthusiastic toddler went face-first into the thick layers of icing, eliciting squeals from kids and horrified gasps from parents. A proud mother’s camera flash went off in rapid succession. “That’s our cue!" Molly urged, sprinting low to the ground like a ninja escaped from a kid's anime. Bill followed, lugging the oversized sack, his movements more comparable to a lumbering bear trying to tiptoe. As they reached Rex, Molly put on her sweetest smile. "Hey Rex, I love your dino get-up. Think I can get a photo for Instagram?" Rex blinked, his sluggish teenager mind taking a moment to catch up. “Uh, sure…” Molly positioned him so his back was to the corner, shielding Bill as he shoved gift after gift into their bag. Rex grinned goofily, posing with dino claws, unaware that his primary role as guard was actively being circumvented. “Got it! You’re a star, Rex!” Molly said, patting him awkwardly on the dino snout. She glanced over to Bill, who gave her a thumbs-up, the bag now considerably bulkier. “Are we good?” Bill whispered, voice tinged with anxiety. “Better than good, we’re perfect,” Molly replied, grabbing the handles of their heist sack. Suddenly, a chorus of kids shouted in unison, “Piñata time!” “Oh, this is it,” Bill muttered nervously. A dozen kids huddled around the piñata, sticks in hand, swinging with chaotic glee. Molly gave Bill a nudge. “Blend in!” They scooted into the mob, trying to look as inconspicuous as adults crashing a child’s party could. The din of excited voices rose as candy scattered across the patio from one particularly forceful whack. With everyone scrambling for sweets, Bill and Molly made their break for the door, passing the distracted parents and oblivious entertainer. They were almost at the gate when a shrill voice rang out. “Hey, who are they?” Bill and Molly froze, but then Molly’s quick-thinking took over. She yanked a party hat from a passing child and plopped it on Bill’s head. “We’re the Cleanup Crew! This place was a mess!” The parents exchanged puzzled glances before one of them shrugged. “Cleanup crew does dress weird these days.” Seizing their moment, Molly and Bill dashed out of the yard, bag in tow, their laughter mingling with the lingering sounds of the party. "We did it, Molly," Bill chuckled, breathless. "Yeah, for now. Let’s just hope nobody checks Instagram," Molly grinned, patting the heavy sack. Their successful heist, albeit ridiculous, was just another chapter in their life of comedic crimes.