Molly crouched behind the meticulously trimmed hedges, her eyes darting between the balloon-festooned gate and the bouncy castle that towered like a pastel-colored fortress in the sprawling backyard of the McMansion. Bill joined her, tugging at the collar of his ridiculously oversized clown shirt. "You know, this would be a lot easier if we just knocked over a liquor store like normal people," Bill grumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. Molly rolled her eyes, her black-and-white striped convict costume rustling. "And miss out on the haul of the century? C'mon, Bill, where's your sense of adventure?" "Adventure?" Bill scoffed. "I call it a one-way ticket to the big house, and not the fun kind with metal slides and chocolate pudding." "Relax," Molly said, patting his arm. "We're not actually stealing from kids. We're liberating high-end electronics from clueless adults who'll just claim it on their insurance." Bill adjusted his rainbow-colored wig, a gift from Molly for his "undercover" role. "And what exactly is your excuse for dressing up as a mime?" Molly struck a dramatic pose, her face painted in stark white with thick black outlines. "I'm the silent guardian of this operation, the phantom who'll be forgotten the moment we slip away." "More like the one who'll get us caught when you can't talk your way out of a jam," Bill muttered. Molly's silence was her only retort, her exaggerated gestures conveying her mock indignation. A gaggle of children, faces smeared with cake frosting, stampeded past them, shrieking with delight. Bill's eyes widened in panic. "How are we supposed to pull this off with a herd of sugar-crazed ankle biters running around?" Molly mimed unlocking her lips and whispered, "That's the beauty of it. Total chaos. We blend in, grab the goods during the gift frenzy, and vanish like the boogeyman at sunrise." "Or like my dignity the day I agreed to this heist," Bill sighed. The two watched as parents milled about, phones glued to their hands, oblivious to the impending "mishap." Molly nudged Bill and pointed to a pile of gaily wrapped boxes spilling out of a shiny new wagon. "On my signal," Molly mouthed, her hands weaving an intricate plan in the air. "I can't believe I'm doing this," Bill said, more to himself than to Molly. "Trust me," Molly silently formed the words, her eyes sparkling with mischief. As the birthday boy, a chubby-cheeked tyke in a miniature suit, approached the wagon, Molly and Bill sprang into action. With the precision of a well-oiled machine, Molly pretended to entertain the children with her invisible box routine, while Bill, with all the grace of a drunken giraffe, stumbled into the wagon, upending it and sending presents tumbling onto the lawn. The children squealed in delight, scrambling to claim their loot, while Molly and Bill discreetly tucked the high-ticket items under their costumes. "Happy birthday, kid," Bill said under his breath as he pocketed a sleek tablet. "Consider this your belated gift." Molly, her arms full of stolen treasures, gave him a triumphant nod. They began to back away slowly, blending into the crowd of nannies and parents who had finally taken notice of the Bedlam. "You know, for a pair of crooks, we clean up nice," Molly whispered once they were a safe distance away. Bill chuckled, his nerves finally giving way to the thrill of the steal. "Just remember, next time you want to rob a party, let's make it a bar mitzvah. At least then, we'll get a decent meal out of it." Together, they slipped through the gate, their laughter mingling with the joyous cacophony of the party behind them—a perfect ending to their most whimsical caper yet.