Molly and Bill sat in the beaten-up van parked down the street from the suburban home where colorful balloons bobbed happily at the mailbox. It was hard to believe that unnoticed under a pile of kiddie cheer lay a fortune in new-gen gaming consoles—apparently, little Timmy had outrageously affluent and generous friends. The back of the van was strewn with clown outfits, a questionable bag of faux magic tricks, and face paint. Bill looked at the ensemble skeptically, his brows furrowing behind his thick glasses. “This is the last time I let you pick the disguises,” he grumbled, holding up the neon-colored wig, which seemed to have seen better days. “Listen, the key to a good heist is blending in,” Molly countered, expertly twisting her hair into a bun to fit under her own garish wig. “And what's more innocuous than clowns at a kiddie party, Bill?” “We look ridiculous.” “At least you're a happy ridiculous,” Molly retorted with a smirk, tossing him a floppy bow tie. Rolling his eyes, Bill fitted the tie around his neck, muttering, "If anyone takes pictures, I'm denying everything." Molly peeked through a small binoculars, her eyes scanning the party. “Target sighted! The presents are being piled up in the living room. I can see them through the window.” “Alright, let’s review the plan,” Bill said, taking a deep breath. “We go in posing as magician clowns, hired for an extra dose of surprise by ‘Uncle Jerry’. You handle the balloon animals, I'll pull the ol' coin-behind-the-ear trick.” “Got the fake business cards?” Bill patted his breast pocket. “Right here, next to my squawking rubber chicken.” “Perfect!" Molly clapped her hands, finalizing their approach. “I distract the kids with my unparalleled balloon twisting skills, you cozy up to the adults, praise the décor, laugh at their lame jokes, then when everyone's eyes are on Timmy blowing out his birthday candles…” “We swipe the goodies,” Bill finished. “Subtle and swift.” “Exactly.” The two clowns, totally garbed in their ridiculously vibrant attire, exited the van and marched towards the house. The sounds of children laughing and playing filled the air as they approached, mingling with the cheerful din of party music that spilled out every time the front door opened. Molly rang the doorbell, her hands suspiciously hidden behind her back, harboring a bunch of twisted balloon animals. When the door swung open, a pleasantly surprised but slightly frazzled mother appeared. “Clowns? But I didn’t book—” “Surprise act from Uncle Jerry!” Bill interjected cheerily, flashing the business card. “Jerry couldn’t make it but sent the next best thing!” “Oh, how thoughtful!” the lady exclaimed. Inside, laughter echoed, mixed with the cacophony of a party in full swing. Molly and Bill slipped inside, quickly becoming the life of the party. Bill pulled a never-ending handkerchief from his pocket, drawing gasping awes from the kids, while Molly’s poodle balloon was an instant hit. Their eyes, however, constantly scanned the room, taking in the routes and exits, noting the pile of gifts—a small treasure trove just waiting to be liberated. Their plan was in motion, and if all went well, Operation Party Crasher would be a roaring, hilarious success.