Molly crouched behind the bush, her eyes scanning the brightly colored banners fluttering in the Johnson’s backyard. Beside her, Bill fiddled nervously with his black beanie, peeking over the bush with binoculars. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Mol?” Bill whispered, wincing as a particularly shrill peal of laughter cascaded over the fence. “These are just kids.” Molly rolled her eyes, adjusting her gloves. “Relax, will ya? We’re not stealing from the kids, we’re liberating the presents from their parents’ overindulgence. Big difference.” “But what if we get caught? I’m not sure ‘liberation’ will hold up in court.” Molly snorted. “We’re not getting caught. Now, give me the rundown.” Bill sighed, lowering his binoculars. “Fine. There are about twenty kids, all under ten. They're distracted by a clown juggling some poorly painted bowling pins. There’s a mountain of presents stacked near the cake table under that big, ridiculous balloon arch.” “Perfect. Distractions aplenty. What’s our entry point?” “Back gate. It's latched but not locked. We slip in, blend in with the shadows, grab the loot, and slide out. Easy-peasy.” “Disguises?” Bill pulled two clown noses out of his pocket and offered one to Molly. “Best I could do on short notice. Throw them off the scent.” Molly fitted the red nose onto her face, stifling a laugh. “Right, because nothing says ‘invisible’ like a bright red nose.” “Hey, focus.” Bill adjusted his own nose, then checked his watch. “It’s almost piñata time. That's our best shot. When the candy flies, so do we.” “Okay, let’s go over the exit strategy.” Bill nodded, more confidently this time. “We stash the presents in the two duffle bags, exit through the side yard, and hop into the getaway stroller.” “Stroller?” Molly raised an eyebrow. “Figured it’s less suspicious. Who questions a couple with a stroller?” “Brilliant,” Molly conceded, grinning. “Okay, it’s go time.” They waited for the signal—the unmistakable sound of a piñata bursting. As soon as the first scream of excitement erupted, Molly and Bill sprang from their hiding spots, darting across the yard and slipping through the gate with the ease of shadows merging with the dusk. Within moments, they were beside the pile of presents, stuffing the duffle bags with everything from action figures to video games. The clowns continued their antics, oblivious to the heist happening right under their bulbous noses. “Hurry up, Bill,” Molly whispered urgently as she zipped her bag shut. “Almost done,” Bill muttered, struggling with a particularly large box. The clatter of candy had subsided, and the children were beginning to notice the diminishing mountain of gifts. A small voice piped up alarmingly near. “Mommy, where’s my present?” “Time to go!” Molly hissed, grabbing Bill’s arm. They made a mad dash for the side yard, the wheels of the stroller rumbling ominously loud in their ears. Once they were safely out of sight, they didn’t stop running until they reached the getaway car—the stroller abandoned at the corner. Bill collapsed against the car, panting. “We really need to pick less stressful targets.” Molly laughed, tossing the stuffed duffle bags into the backseat. “Oh, come on, where’s your sense of adventure?” “Probably back there with the lost innocence of a children’s party,” Bill groaned, but he couldn’t suppress a weary chuckle. Molly smiled, starting the car. “Same time next week?” “You know it, partner.”