The cramped, dimly lit van smelled of stale coffee and old pizza crusts. Molly sat in the driver’s seat, twirling a paperclip between her fingers, while Bill paced back and forth in the cramped space behind her. The plan—if you could call it that—was to infiltrate a children's birthday party happening across the street. The prize? All the unopened presents, stacked in a mountain of gift wrap and shiny bows. “Okay, Molly,” Bill began, voice low and jittery. “You really think this is going to work? A kids’ party? We’re risking everything for... what, Jessica's third birthday?” Molly shot him a look as sharp as the dime-store knife she often carried. “Bill, those presents are like gold. Parents drop serious cash on those things. You think anyone’s watching what’s under the tree? This is the perfect heist: tons of loot, no security, and almost zero suspicion.” Bill nodded slowly. “And the parents? What if one of them catches us? Imagine explaining your way out of stealing from a bunch of toddlers.” Molly smirked. “Simple. We’re *magicians*. We appear, make the presents vanish, and poof—we’re gone before anyone notices.” Bill frowned. “Magicians, huh? Last time you said that, you nearly got us caught trying to ‘disappear’ a bakery display.” “Details,” Molly waved him off. “This time I’ve got a solid plan. We dress as clowns. Too corny? Fine, we go as balloon artists. Parents won’t question the circus vibe.” Bill stopped pacing and stared at her. “You want us to dress as clowns? Molly, the last time you wore makeup, you looked like a raccoon who punched a rainbow.” Molly grinned. “Exactly. The perfect distraction. Plus, I’ve got squirting flower pins to keep things lively.” Bill raised an eyebrow. “And the kids? They’re going to be hyper, screaming, sticky, and probably covered in glitter.” “That’s the cover,” Molly said, eyes gleaming. “In the chaos, we swipe the gifts. Quick, seamless, and no one’s the wiser.” “How do we make the getaway?” Bill asked, pacing resumed. “You can’t exactly sprint with wrapped boxes full of toys.” “That’s the best part. They’re mostly small—dolls, board games, action figures. I’ve already got a giant tote bag for the job. Discreet, but roomy.” Bill looked unconvinced. “Discreet? When you’re juggling balloons, squirting flower pins, and carrying a giant tote? That’s like shouting ‘Look at me!’” Molly laughed. “You’re just worried about your clown ego.” “Exactly right.” The phone buzzed on the dashboard. Molly glanced at the screen. “It’s Jenny, the birthday mom. She says she’ll have about twenty kids, maybe more.” She sighed. “This isn’t going to be easy.” Bill stopped pacing again. “Twenty kids? That’s a lot of eyeballs. One wrong move and it’s all over.” Molly nodded solemnly. “Which means we have to be smooth. We study their patterns, blend in, and move fast. Like ninjas in clown shoes.” Bill leaned forward, tone serious. “Alright, so step one: we get in dressed up, cause controlled chaos, and grab the presents.” Molly steepled her fingers. “Step two: we exit through the side gate, since the front door will be crowded.” “And step three?” Bill asked, biting his lip. “Step three is the getaway driver—you driving this time, Bill.” He groaned. “I knew I’d get stuck with the wheel.” “Someone’s got to make sure we don’t crash the van into a kiddie pool or best friend’s birthday cake.” Bill sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if I get covered in glitter, I’m haunted for life.” Molly laughed. “Deal. Now, suit up. The party’s in thirty minutes, and these presents won’t steal themselves.” Bill looked at the clown costume—bright polka dots, oversized shoes, and a rainbow wig. He held it up, muttering, “For the love of all that’s unholy, why do we have to look like walking birthday nightmares?” “Because,” Molly said, already pulling on her red nose, “that’s how you pull off the perfect heist at a children’s party.”