The city’s rhythm pulsed through the narrow alleyways, but Molly and Bill were hidden in the shadows behind Albert’s Party Palace. The neon lights flickered, casting playful hues that matched the vibrant energy of the party within. In the distance, muffled music and children's laughter provided an ironic backdrop to their clandestine conversation. “Bill, remind me again why we’re targeting a kid’s party?” Molly asked, peering through the window at the chaos of balloons and streamers. “It’s simple really,” Bill replied, adjusting his ski mask. “Low risk, high reward. These kids get enough loot to fill a small warehouse.” “Isn't stealing from kids a bit... low?” Molly scrunched her nose, glancing sideways at him. “Think of it this way,” Bill said, pulling a crumpled blueprint from his pocket. “They’ll never even notice. Out of sight, out of mind. Plus, their parents'll just buy ’em more. We’re practically doing a service here!” Molly let out a soft chuckle. “A service, huh? Maybe we should get some tips.” Bill grinned as he spread the blueprint out against the dumpster lid, tracing his finger along lines and markings. “Okay, so here’s the plan. We use this door at the back—unlocked, no security. We get in, grab the goods, and be out in less than five.” “Alright, Captain Plan-it,” she teased. “But what about distractions? You know, these kids have the attention span of squirrels hyped on sugar.” “Already thought of that!” Bill produced a small box, revealing a jumbled stack of fireworks. “We set these off in the parking lot. Kids run out, we slip in.” Molly nodded, a twinkle of mischief in her eye. “I like it. But what if they have clowns? Or worst, magicians?” Bill frowned. “Clowns I can handle. Magicians—now that's a different ball game. Let’s just pray for squeaky noses and big shoes.” Their eyes met, a shared moment of insanity sealed with a nod. The plan was set, questionable ethics aside. They heard the squealing laughter of children, whimsical and wild, and knew their time was now or never. “Okay, Operation Stuffed Unicorn is a go,” Molly said. “Stuffed Unicorn?” Bill questioned, eyebrow raised. “You have to admit, it’s a good name for a heist.” Bill shrugged. “You’ve got a point. Ready to set off those distractions?” Molly moved to the edge of the dumpster, fireworks in one hand, a lighter in the other. “Here goes nothing,” she murmured, lighting the first fuse. The hiss was almost drowned out by another round of laughter from inside. As the first burst sizzled through the sky, hollow and echoing, the children’s chaotic energy shifted. The little partygoers stormed outside in a wave, chasing the noisy sparks with shrieks of delight. “Showtime,” Bill whispered, leading the way toward the newly vacated party room. Inside, the room was a treasure trove of color. Presents were stacked high, a carnival spectacle of ribbons and sparkles. “Quick, grab the loot before they notice their clowns have gone missing,” Molly whispered, giggling. Mission accomplished, they slipped out the back door, backpacks stuffed with ill-gotten gains, leaving behind only the fading echoes of clapping children and the whiff of spent fireworks lingering in the cool evening air.