Molly adjusted her ski mask while peering through the window of the brightly decorated backyard. “Look at all those gifts, Bill! They’re practically begging to be taken.” Bill chuckled, his hands itching to grab something shiny. “You think they’ll notice if a couple of clowns just… vanish?” “Clowns? We’re not clowns! We could be ‘Buzzy the Bandit’ and ‘Sneaky Sally’ or something,” she suggested, twirling a toy balloon like it was a lasso. “Right! ‘Buzzy’ sounds like he’d eat all the cake instead of stealing,” he snorted. “Let’s stick to the plan. Get in, grab the loot, and get out.” “Fine, but I get first dibs on the pink unicorn!” she said, tilting her head at the giant pile of gifts. “What if not all of them are for the kids? I mean, look at that one—it’s massive! Could be a new grill.” Bill grinned, rubbing his hands together. “We could make a profit selling that.” “Unless it’s from Grandma, and then we’re in big trouble.” Molly sighed dramatically. “Okay, you distract the kids, and I’ll slip in.” “Deal! Just remember, if we hear the birthday song, we’re toast!” he replied, already adjusting his clown nose.