The sun beat down on the sidewalk, casting long shadows behind the row of suburban houses. Molly and Bill stood on the corner, surveying the scene before them. A bright pink banner reading "Happy Birthday, Timmy!" flapped in the breeze, and the sound of sugar-fueled chaos spilled out of the open windows. "That's our target," Molly said, tapping her chin with a gloved finger. "The Smith's house is always the most generous with the loot. I mean, have you seen the way they just dump champagne flutes and designer toys like they're going out of style?" "Tell me about it," Bill said, adjusting his wig. "I've been casing this place for months, and I've got the playbill memorized. I can recite the first verse of 'The Wheels on the Bus' in my sleep if you want." Molly suppressed a smile. "Save that for the debriefing, Billy. We've got a job to get to. Okay, so here's the plan: we sneak in through the open window of the nursery, grab the pile of presents under the gift table, and make a break for the getaway car." "Which, if I recall correctly, is parked three blocks away in a 'Slow Children at Play' zone," Bill said, his voice muffled by the ski mask. Molly shot him a look, but Bill just gave her a goofy grin. "Hey, it's all part of the charm, right?" The two thieves slipped across the lawn, avoiding a pair of vigilant squirrels. Inside, the party raged on, oblivious to the stealthy operation unfolding around them. Timmy, the birthday boy, sat perched on the jungle gym, a soggy hunk of pink frosting on the corner of his mouth. As they crept towards the gift table, Molly caught sight of a particularly impressive-looking Barbie doll. "Honey, we need to make a quick adjustment to the plan," she whispered, reaching out to grab the doll. Bill snagged the distraction, eyes widening behind his glasses. "What's the game plan, boss?" "I'm thinking we trade the party hats for the toys. It's always more fun to rumble with some loot." Bill chuckled, snatching the presents pile into his arms. "I'm in. You're a real riot, you know that?" Molly wince-fisted him on the shoulder, pretending to be ticked. "Come on, we have to maintain the illusion. Play the part of the bad thieves for once." As they made their hasty exit, the partygoers began to notice their absence. "Hey, where's the birthday clown?" Timmy's mom asked, gazing around nervously. Barely a moment later, a blast of static exploded from the living room TV – code, from Molly's end, signaling the getaway car was waiting. Bill leapt to his feet, slinging the presents bag over his shoulder, and the unlikely duo of Molly and Bill vanished into the nearby park, escaping into the sea of sleepy Saturday afternoon suburban calm, grinning like pros.