Molly's eyes scanned the messy living room, her gaze lingering on the tangled mess of boxes, wrapping paper, and discarded candy until it landed on the infamous target: the 27-year-old birthday boy's treasure trove of gifts. Bill, dressed in a fake mustache and a black cat-print shirt, gave a thumbs-up in response to her "That's the one!" He hopped out of his chair, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Alright, Molly, looks like we've got a sweet setup. I can already taste the success." "We're doing exactly what we did last year. The baby-proofing barrier in the window still hasn't busted yet." The kid had seen the outline on Google. "Seems your plan is to blend in, play the role of the innocent bystander." Molly grunted, cracking her knuckles. "Yeah, and make sure to wear the cat's face paint like you think it's gonna fool anyone." Bill carefully applied the stain and tried to smooth out the excess. "It's perfect. You look like a punk rock baby. Now let's get to work." The doorbell rang, and Molly let out a dry laugh. It was time to put her and Bill's plan into action. "Great. The parents have returned the kids for an extra show, I guess." Molly snorted. "Their kid as dumb as always. Alright, inside, then. The presents first, then the target." They moved swiftly, slipping into the guest room where a towering pile of boxes throbbed with eager anticipation. Bill surveyed the chaos, chuckling. This was a tough one. His job now made to look hard or plain stupid. He reached into the far corner and carefully plucked out a pristine white box adorned with shiny wrapping paper – "Daddy's prize!" The way the mom peered out from behind Molly; Bill took a selfie, his eyes sparkling with mischief. This could be the one. "We're getting close," Molly breathed, a conspiratorial smile spreading across her face – they'd left one present behind. "Can you help me get the tag on this place? It's our biggest ticket, next to the toy cars." Bill expertly pressed the number on the tag, and Jack glared as he slipped his thumb through the gap, disabling the alarm. He let out a deflationary sigh, but to his pride, he said nothing. They strolled further into the room, their eyes fixed on the treasures to come. Maybe – just maybe – today wouldn't be a bad plan after all. Together, they closed in on the mother, her eyes searching for them – like they would shatter into a million pieces if they didn't act first. Bill moved into position, pretending to wipe his mouth with his sleeve. The door swung open, and they made their move, disappearing into the crowd, toys and screams replaced by the staccato laugh in their midst.