The dimly lit back room of Molly's favorite dive bar buzzed with the murmur of hushed conversations and the rhythmic clinking of glasses. Amidst the motley assortment of receipts, GPS trackers, and busted toys, Molly and Bill huddled around a stained table, fingers stained by dirty BLTs and the remnants of yesterday's weed. "You're sure this is legit?" Molly asked, her eyes narrowing as she ran a grubby hand through her frizzy brown hair. "A kids' party? Seriously, man?" Bill, ever the smooth talker, grinned. "Hey, kid's parties are gold. Parents spend a fortune on those things, and who's gonna miss a dozen or so iPads or Nintendo Switches? A bunch of spoiled brats with ADHD?" Molly snorted, tearing open a packet of peanuts. "Says the guy with the tendonitis from lifting too much Austin Powers memorabilia." "Hey, that was one time!" Bill defended, wincing as if reliving the pain. "Anyway, I did my research. The houseparents are leaving at nine, everyone's distracted with the magician, and the security system is a piece of crap." "Still, it's a fucking playground. We'll have to dodge bouncy castles and piñatas just to get to the goodies." She frowned, tapping her earring against the table. "And the kids? What if some nosy little bastard decides to follow us? I'm not kidding around about that." "Nah, don't worry, Molly. I scoped the place out, remember? It's a maze of noise and neon. We'll be in and out before any snot-nosed tyke notices. Besides, we'll take the slowest ones down first." Their laughter was low and conspiratorial, weaving through the constant hum of clanging bottles and distant blaring music. "All right, then. What's the master plan?" Molly asked, sliding a crumpled cigarette between her lips. "We sneak in through the cat door, snag the presents, avoid the backyard slides and ball pits. I'll take the living room; you hit the bedrooms. Be cool, keep an eye out for party balloons—get it? Party balloons?" Molly groaned but couldn't help chuckling. "Get it, Bill. Oh, wait, the password is 'Balloons,' right?" "Fuckin' A, it is." With their plan set in motion and their scheme on track, they high-fived with a satisfying crunch, like snapping a salute in an invisible military unit. Bill rummaged through his backpack and produced a mask resembling a snarling clown. "Just in case we need a little deterrent." "Real classy," Molly quipped, fitting on her own mask—a terrified hamster clenched between her teeth. "Shit, reminded me. I got one more surprise for you." Bill handed her a small plastic tube filled with a viscous liquid. "Mystery goo! Perfect for leaving behind some fake fingerprints. Or maybe it'll turn out to be my famous snot gel, who knows?" Molly raised an eyebrow, inspecting the tube dubiously. "That would be a first, Bill." As they sat back in their respective chairs, a hushed silence descended upon the pair, broken only by the sound of their chewing, the distant laughter of a patron spilling into the alley, and the soft ticking of theft time on their prepaid watches. Tomorrow, the kids would wake up to find their presents missing. Today, Molly and Bill got to enjoy their favorite pastime—making off like bandits. The heist was on. Now, all they needed was a little chaos, a whole lot of luck, and a prayer that the magician wasn't more dangerous than they anticipated. "On three," Bill whispered. "One... two... three!" In unison, they breathed a giggle, stood up, and melted into the shadows. There was no going back now.