Molly drummed her fingers on the worn out tabletop, eyes fixated on a crumpled map of the backyard where the children's party would unfold. An array of plastic cups, half-empty soda cans, and a solitary plate of untouched cookies cluttered the surface around her. Bill, her partner in what many would call madness, paced behind her, mumbling under his breath, seemingly more agitated with each turn. The scene was comical, organized chaos in a dingy hideout not far from the city's outskirts. "We're going in as entertainers, right?" Bill finally broke the silence, his voice cracking slightly under the pressure of their impending adventure. A magenta clown nose sat crooked on his desk, a stark contrast to his unshaven face and tattered shirt. "I mean, who would suspect a pair of clowns? It's foolproof." Molly, her face partially obscured by a violet wig that had seen better days, shot him a sideways glance. "Foolproof? Bill, we're walking into a gauntlet of pint-sized terrors. One wrong move, and we're looking at a mob of kindergarteners on our tail. Not to mention, their dads. Have you seen the guns some of these suburban dads tote around under those pastel polo shirts?" Bill flopped into the chair opposite her, the structure creaking under his weight. "You got a better idea, then? Because I'm all ears. We need to make this work, Molly. It's been a lean few months." She sighed, tapping the map with a long, painted fingernail. "Alright, hear me out. We're not just any clowns. We're part of the entertainment— face painting, magic tricks, the works. But, here's the twist: we're also the ones delivering the presents. We're the delivery ‘clowns’, if you will. We'll blend in, give the gifts, and slowly separate the really expensive ones from the pile. No one pays attention to where the presents go once they're opened, right?" Bill frowned, his eyebrows knitting together in thought. "So, we're stealing from children, dressing as clowns, and pulling some kind of switcheroo with the presents? That's...interesting. But what about the other parents? They'll notice their kid's pricey new toy suddenly goes missing, won't they?" Molly leaned back, a smirk playing on her lips. "That's where our friend, confusion, comes in handy. Create a diversion, something big, something chaotic. A piñata that's filled not just with candy, but with hundreds of those little rubber balls that stick to everything. The kids will be too busy having the time of their lives, and the parents too preoccupied with damage control." Bill's eyes widened in realization. "And while they're dealing with that, we slip away with the loot. It's genius, it's madness, and it sounds perfect. Let's do this, Molly. Operation 'Naughty Clowns' is a go!" Molly grinned, her resolve firm. "Just remember, Bill. When they ask us why we stole from a children's party, our answer is simple: 'We're not bad, we're just drawn that way.'" They shared a laugh, the sound echoing through the small room, a mix of desperation, exhilaration, and the lunacy only true partners in crime could understand.