Molly crouched behind a prickly hedge, her eyes darting between the balloons bobbing cheerfully at the entrance of the party and the throng of children darting about in sugar-fueled frenzy. Bill joined her, clutching a blueprint of the house that he'd "borrowed" from the town planning office. "You sure this is ethical?" Bill whispered, his brow furrowed beneath the brim of his baseball cap. Molly rolled her eyes. "Ethical? We're stealing presents from kids, Bill. Ethics flew out the window with our last shred of decency." "Fair point," Bill conceded, tracing a gloved finger along the blueprint. "We've got two options: the front door during the chaos or the back window when the clown arrives." Molly snorted. "You think we're amateurs? Front door's a death trap. We go in with the clown, blend in, and bam! We're in and out with the loot before they can say 'balloon animal.'" Bill nodded, still scrutinizing the blueprint. "And the security system?" "Child's play," Molly boasted, pulling out a small device from her pocket. "This baby can disable it for five minutes. Plenty of time." "What about the nanny cams?" "Simple misdirection. We send in the toy drones as decoys. They're having a 50% off sale at the spy shop down the street. Bought four." Bill chuckled. "You think of everything. But what about the kids? They're not going to just let us waltz in and take their presents." Molly grinned, a mischievous glint in her eye. "That's where your 'world's okayest clown' act comes in. You distract them with your... unique interpretation of 'entertainment,' and I'll swoop in and grab the goods." "I don't know, Mol. My juggling is rusty, and the last time I tried to make a balloon dog, it ended up looking like a deformed duck." "Just stick to the classics, Bill. Make a fool of yourself. It's what you're best at." Bill sighed, adjusting his cap. "Alright, but if this goes south, we're blaming the duck-shaped balloon animal." "Deal," Molly agreed, checking her watch. "Clock's ticking. Let's get into position." They shuffled closer to the edge of the property, keeping low to avoid the prying eyes of parents sipping cocktails on the patio. Molly peered through the leaves, her gaze fixed on the present table groaning under the weight of gift-wrapped boxes. "You know," Bill mused, "we could just buy the kids a new set of presents. It'd be cheaper than the gear we're using for this heist." Molly shot him a withering look. "And where's the fun in that? This isn't about need, Bill. It's about the thrill, the challenge. Plus, have you seen the price of toys these days? It's highway robbery!" "Ironically, that's what we're about to commit," Bill pointed out dryly. Molly ignored the comment, her attention on the clown making his grand entrance. "Showtime, Bill. You're up." With a resigned groan, Bill slapped on a red nose and a ridiculous wig he'd stuffed in his pocket. "Here goes nothing." Molly watched as Bill sauntered toward the party, a lopsided grin plastered on his face. She couldn't help but smirk as the children's expressions ranged from bewilderment to horror at the sight of Bill's clown getup. As the chaos ensued, Molly slipped away, her focus solely on the task at hand. She crept along the side of the house, disabled the security system with a press of a button, and sent the drones buzzing toward the nanny cams. With the coast clear, she made her way to the back window, sliding it open with practiced ease. Inside, the sound of Bill's off-key rendition of "The Wheels on the Bus" provided the perfect cover. Molly moved swiftly, gathering armfuls of presents and stuffing them into a large sack she'd brought for the occasion. With her haul secured, she exited the way she came, joining Bill who was now leading the children in a conga line around the garden. "Mission accomplished," she murmured, tapping him on the shoulder. Bill's eyes lit up, and he gave her a subtle nod. Together, they slipped away from the party, their sack of ill-gotten loot in tow, leaving behind a group of children utterly perplexed by the world's okayest clown.