"Are you ready, Molly?" Bill asked, adjusting his bright yellow party hat. "I was born ready, Bill," Molly replied, straightening her clown wig. "Are you sure this is the best plan?" "Trust me," Bill reassured her, "they'll never suspect two clowns at a children's party." Molly sighed. "Fine, let's do this." The duo approached the party venue, bustling with energetic children and oblivious adults. They slipped in through the back entrance, unnoticed in the chaos. "Remember, we grab the presents and head to the van," Bill whispered. "The birthday boy has the most valuable loot." Molly frowned. "Stealing from kids, Bill? That's low, even for us." "It's not stealing," Bill protested, "it's... redistribution of joy." Molly rolled her eyes. "Whatever helps you sleep at night." As the children gathered for cake, Molly and Bill sprang into action, gathering armfuls of brightly wrapped gifts. But their escape was cut short by an unexpected obstacle: a group of sugar-fueled children, ready for a game of tag. "Not now, kids," Molly groaned. "Can't let them catch us," Bill said. "Let's move!" With clown shoes squeaking and red noses bouncing, they bolted for the door, presents in tow. But as they reached the exit, Molly hesitated. "What now?" Bill asked, annoyed. "We can't do this, Bill," Molly decided. "It's just not right." "You're kidding, right?" Bill asked incredulously. Molly shook her head. "No, I'm not." "Fine," Bill relented. "I guess we're not as heartless as we thought." Defeated but relieved, they returned the gifts to their rightful owners. And although they failed as thieves that day, Molly and Bill couldn't help but feel a strange sense of pride in their newfound morality.