Bill chuckled, "This should be easy. A party for kids, right? Silly goods everywhere." Molly twisted the lock, a soft click serenading their silent dash. "I miss Silverwood Avenue as we approach. I still can't believe Mama used to bake that apple pie right out here." "Right? We'll have to keep our puns on a low flame. No one wants to entertain themselves after witnessing our departure, puffing smoke at the poor clown." "Clown's a lesser concern than Jeff the Piñata Guy. His masterpiece—the centerpiece—really takes the cake on Sugar Monday." Comfortably in her element, Molly grinned. "You know, I once met a party planner who loved chaos. A flaw in my eyes. So calm, unless we're suspecting a hatchet job in store." "Mooo"}, Bill said with a mischievous glint. "But foul play aside, this'll be our biggest gas"—glance suspiciously at the potted plant—"soil." Her laugh tinkled on the hushed air. "Bill, let's not bark up the wrong tree unless backfiring's the game plan." "Noted," he replied with a smile. "Security's our cat. We'll lure it out with our past glories—popped balloons and the piñata bash." With the masterful exchange, they infiltrated the celebration, aiming to steal the sugary spoils without ever letting a cream puff canary tilt their scales.