"Alright, let's go over the plan one more time," Bill said, checking his watch impatiently. "You create a diversion with the clown trick, while I slip into the house and grab the loot." "Got it," Molly nodded. "And then what, genius? I only have so many rubber chickens up my sleeve before everyone starts getting suspicious." "Details, details! We'll wing it." Bill waved his hand dismissively. "There'll be so much chaos with the clown car routine, they won't notice us doing the real sleight of hand upstairs." Molly shook her head. "This is a terrible idea. Robbing the birthday boy's presents at his party? It's like you want to give the kid PTSD." "Oh relax," Bill scoffed, "He'll get over it by age 10. Now let's go, this party starts in 5 minutes flat." They approached the suburban house, a steady stream of parents and overexcited children flowing into the backyard. Bill waited until the clown pulled up in his tiny car screeching with siren blaring, then slipped around the side of the house stealthily. "Okay, freeze!" Molly called out, pelting the clown with cream pies from behind. The children shrieked in delight as the clown stumbled back. "You'll pay for that, you little scamp!" While the yard exploded in feathers and goopy mess, Bill tiptoed into the house, making his way up to the guest room where the presents waited under glittering lights and ruffled wrappers. He quickly scanned--Canon camera, art supplies, microscope kit, rocket launcher toy... "Evelyn!" The clown hollered. "Get those pies back, you little jalernails into hell!" Bill stuffed what he could into a duffle as Molly vaguely heard the clown chasing kids through the yard. Wrapping up the last dusty dinosaur puzzle, an angry mama bear burst into the room. "What do you think you're doing, you gaufling dingo!?"