"This is just as crazy as I imagined," Molly said tensely, peeking at Bill from behind a clustered nest of balloons near the kids playing Duck, Duck, Goose. Bill stood amidst the frenzied partygoers, methodically scanning for anyone's suspicious eye movement. "Pshaw, easiest heist of our lives," Bill retorted, gesturing a carefree wave at the group, which prompted them to giggle in ecstasy. "We've been planning this for months, partner." "Let's just try and finish it soon before they catch on. I don't fancy explaining our previous afternoon eating germ-infested popcorn at a petting zoo. Honest to God, Bill, who knew animal droppings could be so cold and clammy?" "Guess we're fortunate it wasn't your day to rope in a clown," he winked. Molly scoffed, tugging at her hat and delving into another mirror-smooth maneuver, blending in flawlessly with the Mom-clad, beer-toting parents. "I'm sure you'd have the worst of it if a clown hid in a ball pit and had promised not to spook you like an overly proofread ghost story," she lashed back with a glint in her eyes. Snatching up the requisite cake box as cover among the glitter-clad excitements, they eased closer together, their hears pricked with the sound of ice melting in the backyard's kiddie pool. In a brisk, binoculars-aided reconnaissance, Bill traced the gleaming will-power of the local teenager lifeguard responsible for guarding presents near the kiddy pool. "Figures, he's evil like a sliced lemon, our endearing pool guard," Bill said, feigning a calming expression of an old dairy farmer peering at salacious new city spendings. "Molly let's make him a small prize of a captive. It might be best to ensure his amenable subservience when fetching gifts. He's got a swim cap, we could repurpose that as a sack," Molly whispered with a sideward glance. Meanwhile, a wide-eyed Scooby-Doo look-alike called out, "Mr. Charlie we lost the whistle! Which kid had it last?" as he pulled himself up to the short nursery wall, sensing an odor abnormal to a balmy afternoon, a hint of wicked scheme that tickled the stout nostrils. The two thieves noted his every movement with utter calmness, portraying themselves as absorbed in their general revelries, just two unassuming pals with a shared affection for bunny rabbits and spoonfuls of hot chocolate. As the boy's callized form disappeared from their view, they breathed in a deep breath, grateful for their ruse's impenetrable cover. Recognizing a window of opportunity had emerged, they refocused on their mission. The party's end loomed near. Tonight possibly heralded the triumph of their most wacky heist yet—luring a group of children to bedtime, secreting all the glinting gifts in their satchels, and cautiously ghosting through the party's din while evading curious parental glares. The grand prize awaited them. Today, they'd take the cherished dollhouse, enchanting wooden alphabet block set, and flying toy plane out from under the children's noses, leaving a perfect waste of cheerful gasps and bewildered eyes. Oh yes, they'd outwitted Mr. Ingenuity himself and fooled a crowd of scholarly mother hens. And they were going to make a viral video out of this! About buddies, adventures, ideals. This would be the heist of the century. The heist of heists. And the party just wouldn't be the same without it.