Molly and Bill crouched behind a bush, eyeing the bustling children's party. "Bill, this might be our most daring heist yet," Molly whispered. "I count at least twenty kids." "Imagine the loot inside those gift boxes, Molly," Bill countered. "We'll never have to eat ramen noodles again." Molly scanned the area, her brow furrowed. "But the clown-to-child ratio is too high." "Nonsense. Clowns are just grown-ups in disguise. We've tackled worse." Bill winked. "Fine. You distract the cake-throwing one while I sneak in," Molly proposed. "That guy?" Bill snorted. "Piece of cake." Molly rolled her eyes. "Alright, I'm off." "Remember, Molly," Bill said gravely, "in and out. No time for pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey." "I know, Bill," Molly sighed. "But I can't promise anything." Bill chuckled as Molly tiptoed toward the pile of presents. He stood up, cleared his throat, and yelled, "Hey, Bozo, your nose is on fire!"