The dimly lit basement was cluttered with blueprints and crumpled bags of potato chips. Molly, with her red curls tied messily atop her head, leaned over a layout of what looked suspiciously like a birthday party venue. "Alright, Bill, listen up. This is no ordinary heist," Molly declared, tapping the paper with a chewed-up pencil. Bill, a lanky fellow with a penchant for Hawaiian shirts, adjusted his sunglasses, despite the indoor setting. "I'm all ears, Molly. What's the play?" "We're crashing Tommy Thompson’s seventh birthday bash. Target time, three thirty. Precise moment those kids will be bamboozled by the arrival of the magician," Molly explained with a grin. Bill ran a hand through his hair, looking skeptical. "Stealing presents? Ain’t that a bit low, even for us?" Molly shrugged, unfazed. "Desperate times, Bill. Besides, have you seen the wishlist these kids have these days? Gaming consoles, drones, even designer sneakers!" “Touché,” Bill conceded. “So, magician distraction, huh? What’s our opening move?” Molly pointed to the map. “We slip into the main hall during the 'Great Disappearing Bunny' trick. Everyone’s eyes glued to the stage. We make our entrance, easy-peasy.” Bill snorted. “You really think they’ll be that distracted? These kids have attention spans like squirrels on espresso.” “Which is exactly why it’ll work. They’ll be too busy wondering how Fluffers vanished into thin air.” Bill tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Alright. But how do we deal with the parents? You know they’re like hawks over their little prize possessions.” Molly grinned wickedly. “Already thought about that. We bring in our secret weapon: Patty the Piñata. Release the candy at just the right moment and watch them scatter like pigeons.” Bill chuckled. “Now, that’s evil genius level. So, what’s my role in this candy-carnage operation?” Molly slid another sheet his way. “You're on crowd control while I bag the loot. Make sure the kids don’t sniff out our real gig.” “Do I have to dress as a clown again?” Bill groaned, recalling the last misadventure. Molly patted his arm reassuringly. “No clown shoes this time, partner. You’re going as the party entertainer.” Bill’s eyes widened. “Entertainer? In what capacity?” “Balloon animals, magic tricks—basic stuff. Just enough to keep them away from the gift pile.” “I can’t make a balloon giraffe to save my life, Molly!” “Good news for you, Bill; kids don't know the difference between a giraffe and a spaghetti noodle. Just twist some balloons around and keep a straight face." Bill sighed dramatically. “Fine, but if I get a balloon popped in my face, we are revisiting this plan.” Molly raised an eyebrow, her smile teasing. “Noted. Guess that means I’m taking safety goggles for the gig.” “Anything else I should worry about?” Bill asked, folding the plan carefully. Molly gave him a playful nudge. “Just remember, keep them entertained longer than a squirrel's attention span, and stop making giraffes when they ask for dogs.” “Got it, I’m balloon-bound and ready,” Bill declared, determination in his voice. The two of them grinned wickedly, ready to crash the birthday bash in style.