“It’s depraved, Bill. Downright morally reprehensible!” Molly whisper-shouted, clutching a fistful of colorful balloons. Bill adjusted the novelty party hat perched precariously on his head. “We’ve been over this, Molls. It’s a victimless crime.” “Victimless?!” Molly squawked, nearly choking on a stray balloon string. “Dozens of heartbroken children with their little faces pressed against the window, watching their presents vanish? That doesn’t scream ‘victimless’ to you?” “Those kids are swimming in plastic toys they’ll lose interest in after five minutes,” Bill argued, casually bouncing a beach ball on his knee. “Consider us liberators, freeing them from the tyranny of excessive consumerism.” “By becoming excessive consumerists ourselves?” Molly scoffed. “Hey, these remote-controlled monster trucks don't grow on trees, you know! Besides, we’re giving these gifts a second chance at life. A chance to bring joy to someone who truly appreciates the finer things in life.” Molly raised an eyebrow. “And by ‘someone,’ you mean you?” “Well, yeah. Me and maybe some discerning collectors on the dark web. Those limited-edition action figures fetch a pretty penny, you know.” Molly threw her hands up in exasperation. “You’re incorrigible! Alright, let’s get this over with. What’s the plan?” Bill’s grin was positively mischievous in the flickering glow of the disco ball they’d strung up in their van. “Simple and elegant, like all good heists. While the little rugrats are busy stuffing their faces with cake, we swoop in, grab the goods, and make a clean getaway.” “And how, pray tell, do we distract a horde of sugar-crazed maniacs for long enough to pull that off?” Molly asked, her voice laced with skepticism. Bill pulled out a kazoo from his oversized pocket, a smug look on his face. “With this, my dear Molly, and a little something I like to call ‘Operation: Musical Mayhem.’” Molly groaned. “This is going to be a disaster.”