Molly surveyed the bouncy castle, its garish purple and green clashing with the pastel pink and blue of the villa. Balloons bobbed erratically, tethered down by heavy weights barely visible amongst the throng of sticky-fingered toddlers. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Bill.” Bill, perched precariously atop a giant stuffed giraffe, scoffed. “Relax, Molls, it’s a kids’ party. What’s the worst that could happen? We’ll be in and out before the magician pulls a rabbit out of a hat.” “Yeah, but what if the rabbit’s a retired special ops bunny? You know, trained to detect suspicious activity?” Bill slid down the giraffe’s neck, landing with a thump. “First of all, highly unlikely. Second, they probably only train them to detect carrots and magicians’ handkerchiefs.” He surveyed the scene, spotting the gift table laden with presents. It was practically begging to be relieved of its colourful burden. "Look at the loot!" he whispered, eyes gleaming. "We're talking potential goldmines, Molls! Barbie Dreamhouses masquerading as doll palaces, dinosaur sets that secretly double as miniature nuclear arsenals. Think of the resale value!" Molly, however, was fixated on a gaggle of tiny humans wielding water pistols and chasing a stray balloon shaped like a particularly perturbed pig. “Bill, those kids are armed. Seriously armed. The level of sugar-fueled chaos out here rivals a gladiatorial arena. And they've got the attention spans of goldfish.” Bill waved a dismissive hand. “They’re kids, Molly. They’ll be distracted by a shiny object in five seconds." “Or a rogue ice cream cone,” Molly muttered, eyeing a toddler teetering dangerously close to a waffle cone precariously balanced on its head. Bill, ignoring her, tucked a grappling hook into his belt. “We need a diversion.” “A diversion?” Bill grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan. See that piñata? It’s practically begging for an early retirement.” Molly watched as Bill, with a triumphant grin, grabbed a nearby baseball bat. “You sure about this, Bill? Seems a little…overkill?” Bill, already eyeing the piñata with a predator’s focus, shrugged. “Gotta make an entrance, Molls. Consider it performance art.” He wound up, the bat whistling through the air. “Maybe just grab the presents?” Molly suggested, but it was too late. With a resounding crack, the piñata exploded, showering the festivities in a rain of sweets and confetti. Chaos erupted. Screams of delight mingled with cries of "Mommy, he broke the donkey!" Bill turned to Molly, a triumphant grin splitting his face. “Distraction achieved! Now, let's go grab some loot before the adults get back from the buffet.”