Molly and Bill sat in the back of a nondescript van, hiding an impressive array of tools and a costumed clown suit. Bill, who had a similar build as Molly, adjusted his baseball cap as he examined blueprints of the Children's Library, which was hosting the party. Molly munched on a sandwich, a strand of salami dangling from her lips. "This place is packed with little rascals, Bill. How the hell are we going to nail this?" "Elementary, my dear Molly. We dress up as clowns, charm our way in as entertainers, find the presents, and slip out like ninja kittens in the night." Bill's grin widened as he showed off a clown nose and an ancient clown wig. "Behold, the madness outfit! I've had it from a theater club I accidentally burned down." Molly laughed and threw the salami strand back into her sandwich. "You were supposed to turn that in for insurance, Bill, not pilfer it!" "Technicality. It's not stealing if you reclaim stuff from before the fire, right?" "Oh, the loopholes you create," Molly shook her head, fond exasperation clear in her voice, "You've got the nerve to think straight through weirder situations than Picasso on acid." "And I'd have aces up my sleeve." Bill clasped his hands, revealing a small bouquet of gimmicked balloons, each with an explosive charge. "Kid-favorites and distractions, wrapped in colorful happiness. If anything goes south, they'll light the fuse to the exit." "Not bad," Molly nodded, slapping a balloon with a shrewd smile. "But what if the library's got a vigilant security?" "That's my little buddy, here." Bill tapped the van's dashboard, revealing a stash of old mime makeup. "I'll sling some, become the invisible man inside the library. An impromptu performance might grab everyone's undivided attention, but make sure you handle the bait-and-switch while I distract. I'll flash into the gift-festooned room and hoist the swag." "Sounds fine as long as you're done in five minutes. We ain't got all day, Bill." "Scouts' honor. The moment your magnum opus, the howitzer duffel, is ready, we'll split in under six." "Howitzer duffel!" Molly smirked. "Worth the aborted rocket science lectures from Uncle Bernie." She unzipped a large, black duffel bag adorned with a golden howitzer. It had hidden pick-locks, ballistic nets, and a parachute-assisted deployment, owing to her uncle's countless over-engineering. Bill punched the dashboard, rattling the van. "Alright, let this heist fair shows us the door to greener pastures." At the Children's Library, they donned their costumes. Bill's clown make-up was shoddier than a first-grader's, Molly's balloon pump gunned fresh balloons. The library's interior was alive with boisterous laughter and the occasional shriek. They strode in as if they owned the place, candy and balloons in hand. "Step right up, for your chance to burst a balloon and win your heart's desire!" shouted Bill, with a wobbly, falsetto voice. Their suspicious host, Mrs. Peabody, eyed them with a pursed brow, but waved them in. Molly commenced crafting balloons, while Bill's mime act was a near-perfect silent peek-a-boo. As promised, within five unforgiving minutes, Bill flung a red balloon into the air. It burst, and kids instinctively lurched towards it. Bill, cunning as a fox, rocketed to the gift room. Molly, for her part, had kids absorbed in her balloonmaking, a couple shielding her movements. As the bomb within the red balloon spewed confetti, she deployed the howitzer, tilted her head, and winked at the children. Raising the duffel, she captured presents like a spaceship scooping moon rocks. The parachute unfurled, and the heavy gift load tucked, to her and Bill's shared elation. Before he could say 'eureka,' Mrs. Peabody sauntered towards Molly. "And what's your secret technique, dear?" "A breech birth, madam." A grin split Molly's face. "My mother was a whirling, gifting tornado." "Is that so?" Mrs. Peabody tsk-tsked, while Molly exited the chaotic balloon-filled room with Bill in tow. Outside, panting, Molly hauled the duffel, tapping her temples. "That was a close one, Bill. She'd've seen through my lies." "But not close enough to catch us," Bill patted her back, eyes gleaming in his clown mask. "Keep those lies crafty, my dear, and our pockets'll swell like a balloon in the sun." They mirrored each other's grins, climbed into the van, and purred away, the howitzer's explosive heft ensuring the day's success.