Molly, perched on the edge of a dumpster, binoculars pressed to her eyes, scanned the brightly lit house across the street. Bill, leaning against the wall, chewed on a toothpick, his eyes darting between Molly and the house. "Alright, what's the plan, Mol?" Bill asked, his voice a low growl. Molly lowered the binoculars, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "We're going undercover, Bill. We're crashing a kids' party." Bill raised an eyebrow. "You're kidding, right? We're not exactly the type to blend in with a bunch of rug rats." Molly rolled her eyes. "That's why we're going as clowns. Kids love clowns, right?" Bill grimaced. "Clowns are creepy, Mol. Everyone knows that." "Exactly," Molly said, her grin widening. "No one will suspect us. We'll mingle, case the joint, and when the coast is clear, we'll snatch the presents and make a run for it." Bill sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. "I don't like it, Mol. Too many variables. Too many kids." Molly patted him on the back. "Relax, Bill. It's just a bunch of kids. How much trouble can they be?" Bill grunted, unconvinced. "I hope you're right, Mol. I hope you're right." Molly climbed off the dumpster, dusting off her hands. "Trust me, Bill. This is going to be a piece of cake." Bill shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "You're crazy, Mol. But I'll give it a shot. For old time's sake." Molly grinned, handing Bill a bag filled with red noses and oversized shoes. "That's the spirit, Bill. Now let's go steal some Christmas."