Molly crouched behind a meticulously trimmed hedge, her eyes scanning the chaos of the children's party unfolding before them. Bill joined her, clutching a map of the estate they had scouted earlier. He spread it out on the ground, the paper crackling softly under his fingers. "Okay, Molly, here's the plan," Bill whispered, pointing to a marked area on the map. "We wait until the kids are distracted by the clown – that should give us a ten-minute window." Molly eyed the oversized shoes of the clown dancing amidst a sea of giggling children. "And what if the clown decides to take a break or, heaven forbid, do a balloon animal act that lasts an hour?" "I've timed his performances. He's a two-trick pony – literally. Juggling and a lame joke about elephants. Then he takes a smoke break," Bill said confidently. Molly raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that?" "As sure as I am that this heist is our ticket to early retirement," Bill replied, his voice tinged with excitement. Molly smirked. "Early retirement? With the loot from a kids' party? What's our cut gonna be, a dozen Matchbox cars and a princess tiara?" Bill rolled his eyes. "You underestimate the spoils of the upper crust. These kids get gifts that are more extravagant than our last score. We're talking drones, tablets, the works." "Alright," Molly conceded, "but how do we get past the parents? They're like hawks circling a chicken coop." "Simple. We blend in," Bill said, pulling out two costumes from his bag. "Ta-da! We're the new entertainment." Molly examined the ridiculous clown outfits, her expression a mix of horror and amusement. "You can't be serious. I didn't sign up to be a party clown." "Come on, it's perfect! We'll have all the access we need. Plus, I got us a gimmick." Bill revealed two tiny unicycles from the bag. Molly burst into laughter. "You expect us to ride those? We'll be the main attraction at the circus of humiliation!" "It's all about the distraction, Molly. While we're riding in circles, we'll scope out the gift table and wait for the right moment to pounce." Molly wiped a tear from her eye, still chuckling. "And when do we practice this death-defying act?" Bill glanced at his watch. "We've got an hour. Plenty of time." "Okay, but if I fall and break my neck, you owe me one spectacular eulogy," Molly said, taking the unicycle. "Deal," Bill agreed, mounting his own. "Now, let's go over the signal. When I scratch my nose, it means I've spotted our window of opportunity." Molly saluted. "Got it. And when I sneeze, it means the coast is clear." They wobbled on their unicycles, trying to get the hang of it. Children's laughter punctuated the air as they rode in ridiculous circles. "Hey, we're pretty good at this," Bill said, a little too loudly. Molly shot him a look. "Shh! Keep your voice down. We're supposed to be stealthy, remember?" "Right, right," Bill whispered. "Sorry, I got caught up in the moment." A sudden gust of wind sent a cascade of confetti swirling around them. Molly sneezed, louder than she intended. "Bless you," Bill said, then quickly corrected himself. "I mean, is it time?" Molly nodded, her eyes watering. "Yeah, it's time. Let's do this before I change my mind." They pedaled toward the party, the absurdity of their plan fueling their determination. As they approached the gift table, Bill scratched his nose with exaggerated nonchalance. Molly replied with a convincing cough, signaling that she had secured the escape route. In a whirlwind of laughter and shouts of delight from the children, Molly and Bill executed their plan, snatching presents with the finesse of seasoned thieves dressed as hapless clowns. The children clapped, completely unaware that their gifts were disappearing before their very eyes. As they made their getaway, Molly couldn't help but grin at Bill. "You know, for a couple of clowns, we make a pretty good team." Bill nodded, a matching grin on his face. "The best. And just think, tomorrow we'll be sipping piña coladas on a beach somewhere, thanks to the generosity of the one percent's kids." They disappeared into the afternoon, the sound of their absurd getaway vehicle – a pair of tiny unicycles – fading into the distance, leaving behind a trail of confusion and half-eaten cake.