Molly and Bill sat in the cramped storage room of their favorite diner, the smell of frying bacon wafting through the thin walls. A laminated map of the local neighborhood spread out in front of them, dotted with hastily scrawled notes in bright red marker. “Alright, Bill, let’s go over this one more time,” Molly said, tapping her finger on a circled house labeled “Jackson Residence.” Bill adjusted his hat so it sat cockeyed on his head, a grin playing across his lips. “You worry too much, Molly. We’ve got this in the bag, or rather, in the box. Those kids won’t know what hit them.” “Just stick to the plan, Bill. Distractions, remember? What’s your role?” “I play the clown! And a mighty fine one at that. I’ve even got the red nose ready to go. I’ll be so funny they won’t notice if the birthday boy himself goes missing.” Molly rolled her eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “Please don’t kidnap children. Just make them laugh. And what do I do while you’re being Mr. Funny Pants?” “You’re going to mingle, like the lovely assistant you are. Make sure no one’s watching the gift table too closely. You’re great at that social butterfly thing.” She nodded, pointing at another spot on the map. “Right, and remember, the presents are piled up here, near the patio door.” “Perfect escape route. I’ll snag the goods while everyone’s busy stuffing cake in their faces,” Bill said, miming shoving a slice of cake into his mouth. “Keep it quiet,” Molly warned. “And for Pete’s sake, don’t eat any of the cake. We’re not there to have fun.” “But there’s no heist without a little taste of the good life, Molly,” Bill protested with a mischievous wink. “I swear, if you get caught with frosting on your face, I’m leaving you behind,” she replied, unable to resist a chuckle. Bill leaned back, hands behind his head. “Relax, we’ve been in tighter spots than a kid’s birthday party. This’ll be a walk in the park.” “A park filled with sugared-up short people who have no understanding of personal space,” Molly remarked dryly. Bill tossed a gum wrapper at her. “Details, details. What could possibly go wrong?” “I’m glad you asked,” she said, producing a notepad. “One: parents who might notice two oddballs among the guests. Two: dogs. There’s always a dog, Bill. We didn’t factor in a dog!” “Dogs love clowns. I’ll have them chasing a balloon animal in no time,” Bill boasted, juggling imaginary balloons. “Your confidence is terrifying,” Molly said, shaking her head. “Okay, last question: what’s the signal to leave?” Bill considered for a moment, then snapped his fingers. “When the piñata breaks, that’s when we skedaddle.” Molly sighed, folding the map with a flourish. “Alright, big guy. Let’s make these kids cry—or at least mildly upset.” Bill stood, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. “Molly, my dear, we’re going to ruin this party, one stolen present at a time.” “Just remember, no actual harm,” Molly insisted as they headed for the door. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Bill assured her with a gleam in his eye.