Molly paced around the dingy motel room, nervously twirling a lockpick between her fingers. Her eyes glanced over the blueprint of the party venue, the lights from the neon sign outside casting an eerie glow on the paper. Bill lounged on the bed, a cigarette dangling from his lips. "We're raidin' a kiddie party, man," he chuckled, tapping the ashes into an empty pizza box. "What could go wrong?" "I blame it all on the economy," she muttered, nibbling on her thumbnail. "I mean, honestly, where else are we supposed to get loot without ending up in juice?" "Hey, let's not bring that sour mood," Bill slapped her arm playfully, "Don't forget, there's going to be an army of parents, so no need to get up close with the kiddies." He took a drag. "Besides, nobody'd expect a couple of middle-aged rednecks like us at a fancy kids' shindig." "True, true, let's just dress as clowns to blend in." "Ha, great idea." Molly raised an eyebrow. "Say, our usual disguise is a handyman and a caterer, but those clown outfits should do the trick... plus we can use the props for an easy entrance. Who doesn't love a clown show at their party, right? We can even bring in some balloon animals and make us a name with the crowd." "There's something... unnerving about the thought of it. Nevertheless, let's do our recon, buy a couple of clown getups, and some puppets. We'll perform, then scoop up all the prezzies while the parents gaze into their screens." "Sounds like a plan. I'll book a motel to set up base camp—" Bill puffed on his cigarette. "Nah, we'll stick with this one. No need to give ourselves a paper trail." She scoffed. "You're such a cheapskate." "Hey, it's the smart move. I'll handle the safety and security checks, while you snag distraction items." "Sure thing. Guns and magic tricks—got it." "All right, then let's set up the getaway." "Night blue van, registration switched, of course." "Psych! But brilliant. Now, the presents are all gonna' be behind a rope. How's a clown supposed to reach them?" Molly snapped her fingers. "Just act like one of the kids gets sick. A kid tantrum brings the kids to the corner, and ta-da. We'll swipe the swag under the guise of saving the day." "Mind as sharp as ever." Bill stood up. "I'll make props for the act, but don't forget to get some subduing tools. You know, for the little burly babysitters." She clinked her lockpicks against the table. "Sure, I know just the place for tranqs." "And I'll craft the diversion. Let's meet here at seven sharp, get moving now, sunshine." "Always a pleasure, Bills." Molly grabbed her stuff and exited the room. Bill smirked, confident in his partner. His phone buzzed, and he peeked at the message: Sender: Vinnie Message: *photos of Lydia in a bikini, suggestive remarks* Bill groaned, chuckling. He tucked the phone away and got to work on their getup. 'Molly was right, though. This ragtag set-up works. Just gotta' stay on the ball.' As he began his crafting, Bill thought back to when they met: a prison job gone south, and somehow they talked their way out with the best banter around. It once saved their necks; now, it was their mission. The final gear in place, Bill joined Molly at the motel entrance. Molly wore yellow face paint and a plump red nose, flanked by blue-lined pigtails. Bill's green was just as saturated, his face more haggard– a perfect foil to her bubbly persona. They greeted each other with a thumbs-up, their jam playing in the background, dancing a step off-key. "Ready to rock this party, Molly?" She playfully slapped him, still grinning. "Only if we walk away rich." Their heist-turned-clown-flop entertained the crowd, but the seed for distraction growled in Molly's gut. Bill tossed a whoopie cushion to her, and she placed it under a chubby chair. As the fit hit, parents flocked. Molly opened her eyes wide, grabbed the gun from her sock, projected innocence as she moved behind the barrier. The babysitter eyed her suspiciously. Bill whipped out his secret weapon, hitting him square on the head with a well-disguised purse. The thieves stuffed their van with loot, the vanity in their eyes shining bright––the chase loomed, but for now, it was their night. "Can't believe we pulled it off, Bill." Bill grinned, strapping the van. "Just wish Vinnie could've seen this, but it's hard to beat a kids' party for underrated loot." He handed her a stuffed giraffe. "For the road." "For the road," Molly beamed, stepping into the van, guns a-blazing with excitement. The lights of the motel dissolved into the rearview, as the duo vanished into the night, clowns no more. ‘The Off-Kilter Clowns,’ they'd christened their daring heist. Blue skies and stolen toys were all they needed––to continue their clowning around.