Molly peered around the corner of the house, scoping out the backyard. Streamers flapped lazily in the warm breeze. Colorful balloons bobbed and spun on their strings. Laughter and gleeful shrieks of excited children echoed from inside. "Okay, it's almost showtime," she whispered to her partner. "The brats'll be busy with cake soon. That's when we make our move." Bill hefted a crowbar and a heavy-duty duffel bag. "Piece of cake. No pun intended." He smirked. "Ha. Ha," Molly deadpanned. "You're a regular jokester." "Aw c'mon, I'm funny!" Bill protested in a stage whisper. "You're annoying," Molly hissed back. "Now shut up and keep watch." Bill held up his hands in mock surrender and turned his attention to the sliding glass doors leading into the house. The children's chatter rose in volume. Soon, a woman's voice rang out - the mother, no doubt. "Time for cake and presents!" A stampede of small, eager footsteps pounded toward the back of the house, then receded into the distance as the party guests congregated in the living room. The coast was clear. "Let's roll out," Molly said with a nod. "And try not to screw this up, will ya?" Bill winked and hefted his end of the heavy duffel bag. Together they crept to the doors and set to work, crowbars at the ready, adrenaline pumping. It was go time.