Molly peered out from behind the dumpster, her eyes fixed on the riot of color and chaos that was the Smith kid's birthday party. Bill huddled beside her, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Okay, so the presents are all piled up on the table by the bouncy castle," Molly whispered, her breath misting in the chilly afternoon air. "And the cake is going to be served at two-fifteen, which is when our marks will all be distracted," Bill added, his voice low and gravelly. Molly nodded, a grin spreading across her face. "I've got the diversion ready – a whoopee cushion and a spare party hat. I'll create a ruckus by the juice boxes while you sneak in and start loading the presents into the sack." Bill snorted. "You and your love of whoopee cushions. One of these days, someone's going to realize it's always you making the fart noises." Molly chuckled. "Hey, it's a skill, okay? Now, let's get into position. I have a appointment with a pile of loot and a sugar-high horde of toddlers." Bill hefted the sack over his shoulder and the two of them scurried out from behind the dumpster, ready to put their plan into action.