Molly cased the backyard, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "You sure this is the spot, Bill? Seems a bit... childish." Bill, stuffed into a too-small clown costume, adjusted his oversized bow tie. "Kid you not, Mol. Birthday parties are a goldmine. Parents spend a fortune on gifts these days." She smirked, plucking a rubber ducky from a nearby pool float. "And we're just gonna waltz in, grab the loot, and leave? What's the plan?" "Simple," Bill whispered, peering through a hedge at the unsuspecting children. "I'll distract 'em with some bad clowning, you swoop in, snatch the gifts, and we're out before they can say 'balloon animal.'" Molly raised an eyebrow. "Bad clowning? You mean your usual routine?" "Very funny," Bill deadpanned. "Just remember, we're not here to join the party. In and out, quick and silent." She grinned, tucking the duck under her arm. "Got it, boss. Silent but deadly, just like your jokes." "Ha ha," Bill said, unamused. "Just stick to the plan. And for the love of heists, don't eat the cake." Molly feigned innocence. "Who, me? Would I steal a bite of a kid's birthday cake?" "Yes, you," Bill said, pointing at her. "Last time, you got frosting on the getaway car's steering wheel." "Fine," Molly sighed. "No cake, no clowning around. Let's do this." Bill gave a nod, taking a deep breath. "Showtime." As he waddled toward the party, Molly muttered under her breath, "Break a leg, Bill. Preferably not mine."