Molly and Bill huddled behind a bouncy castle, their eyes gleaming with mischief. “Alright, Bill, what's the plan?” Molly whispered, glancing at the rainbow swirl of balloons above them. “Simple, Molly. We slip in through the clown's entrance,” Bill replied, grinning. “Clowns always have a backdoor policy.” “Backdoor policy? You mean where the pies go in and the dignity comes out?” she chuckled. “Precisely. Now, we head for the gift table,” Bill continued, adjusting his bright red nose. “Easy pickings.” “And what about the kids?” Molly asked, peering over at the sugar-charged tornado of little guests. “Distraction, my dear Molly,” Bill said with a wink. “I’ll start a conga line.” “A conga line?” She raised an eyebrow. “At a kid’s party?” “Trust me, nothing distracts like a line of dancing toddlers,” Bill declared confidently. “I hope you’re right,” Molly mumbled. “I’ve never seen a toddler conga trained.” “Stick with me, kid.” Bill grinned, slipping a balloon sword into his belt. “We’re almost in.” “Alright, but if I get pied, you’re on cleanup duty,” Molly warned. “Deal,” Bill laughed, as they crept closer to the colorful chaos. “Now, onto the grand heist.” “Presents beware,” Molly muttered, shaking her head.