Molly tiptoed through the bushes, leaves crunching beneath her feet. The distant sounds of laughter and a bouncy castle screech filtered through the air. Bill, crouching beside her, peered through binoculars. “Alright, Molly,” Bill whispered, lowering the binoculars. “The unicorn piñata’s our blind spot. Once they’re bashing it, we move in.” “Piñata’s the bait, huh? What if it splits early?” Molly asked, eyeing the swirling mass of balloons. Bill grinned, adjusting his cap. “Easy! You use your ‘distraction charm’. Flash those jazz hands—kids love jazz hands.” Molly snorted. “You’re confusing them with rodents, Bill. Besides, kids love magic.” “Fine. Conjure a rabbit from your hat or something,” Bill suggested, feigning annoyance. “Just get inside.” “And the clown?” Molly asked, glancing at the juggle-happy entertainer. “Leave him to me,” Bill said confidently. “One grape soda spill, and he’s out.” “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” Molly said, trying to suppress a giggle, wiping imaginary sweat. “Stakes are high. Those gift bags are screaming ‘best heist ever!’” Bill nodded, determination surging. “Remember, if we hear ‘Happy Birthday’, we scram,” Molly winked, anticipation rising. “Copy that!” Bill said, eyes alight with mischief's spark. With synchronized thief-like grace, they prepared to crash the bubbling party scene.