The air in Bill’s dimly lit basement apartment hung thick with the scent of stale takeout and desperation. He paced, his shadow stretching like a terrified giraffe across the peeling wallpaper. “A children’s party, Molly! We’re robbing a children’s party!” Bill exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “What have you gotten me involved with?” Molly, sprawled across a threadbare sofa, nonchalantly plucked a Lint Roller from her pocket and ran it over her brightly colored, leopard print jumpsuit. “Relax, Bill. It’s not like we’re stealing diamonds from a vault or the Crown Jewels. We’re talking stuffed animals, board games, and the occasional outlandishly large plastic dinosaur.” “But it’s principle, Molly! What message does it send, robbing giggling five-year-olds? Doesn’t it cross a line? Some lines are not meant to be crossed, particularly those adorned with glitter and bouncy castles,” Bill lamented, his voice rising to a pitch that would have made a banshee proud. Molly stopped her lint-fraying mission and fixed Bill with a withering stare. “Don't get sentimental on me, Bill. Sentimentality doesn't pay the bills. Besides, think of the collateral damage avoided. A stolen princess tiara? Catastrophic! A deflated pink unicorn? Minimal.” Bill sank onto a creaky stool, his shoulders slumping. “Alright, alright, I get it. But we’re talking about hefty presents here, Molly. I mean, haven't we graduated past the ‘purse snatch’ stage of our careers? Isn’t it time for something more…sophisticated?” “Sophisticated like what?” Molly smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Art theft? Bank robbery? Don’t get any ideas, Bill. Besides, who could resist a loot bag overflowing with candy and bouncy ball necklaces? It's practically begging to be stolen.” “That's a remarkably low bar for sophistication, Molly,” Bill grumbled, but a hint of a grin flickered across his face. She clapped her hands together, sending a flurry of Lint Roller residue into the air. “Right. So, let's get down to business. Target: The Johnson's annual pre-school extravaganza. Location: Mrs. Johnson's meticulously manicured lawn. Time: Mid-afternoon, when the mothers believe they can finally relax and catch a glimpse of their favorite daytime drama reruns. And our weapons of choice?” Molly pulled a pair of rainbow-colored sunglasses from her pocket, tilting them dramatically. “Cutlery. Guaranteed to make us invisible as we snaffle those coveted gifts.” Bill groaned, burying his face in his hands. He knew arguing with Molly was futile.