The dim light of the abandoned warehouse flickered overhead as Molly leaned against a stack of dusty crates, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. Bill paced nearby, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his too-large jacket, looking half-excited and half-nervous. “So, you’re absolutely sure about this?” Molly asked, eyes gleaming. “A children’s party? Really? Isn’t that a little... unethical?” Bill shrugged, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting the moral police to pop out. “Ethical, schmethical. It’s like robbing a candy store that hands you free candy. Besides, think about it—balloons, cake, a hundred happy kids. It’s the perfect cover.” Molly tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Okay, but what’s the plan? We can’t just stroll in and start grabbing presents. Those party moms are like hawks. They’ll notice someone’s off faster than you can say ‘piñata.’” Bill nodded, pulling a crumpled flyer from his pocket. “See, here’s the invite. Little Tommy’s birthday bash is set for Saturday at two. Parents stepping out at three for a quick grocery run, leaving the backyard party unattended for at least twenty minutes. That’s our window.” “And the kids?” Molly raised an eyebrow. “Inside, eating cake, watching silly clown shows. Totally distracted.” Bill grinned. “Perfect goldmine.” Molly shook her head, a laugh escaping her lips. “You, Bill, have the weirdest idea of a ‘goldmine.’ Okay, twenty minutes to snag all the presents. How do you suggest we handle the wrapping paper runoff? We don’t exactly have the luxury of carrying a sack." Bill pulled a black duffel bag from behind the crates, setting it down with a soft thud. “Magic bag. Big enough to swallow half the party loot, small enough to zip and vanish without a trace.” “Right, the magic bag,” Molly teased, giving the duffel a skeptical poke. “That thing has swallowed more air than treasure on our practice runs.” “Practice makes perfect,” Bill countered. “Besides, we’ve got a new trick up our sleeve this time.” “Oh yeah?” Molly perked up. “Do tell.” Bill’s eyes sparkled in the weak light. “Simple but genius. We disguise ourselves as entertainers. I’m the balloon animal guy, you’re the face painter. No parent’s gonna suspect two costumed clowns sneaking around. And better yet, we blend right into the chaos.” Molly laughed, half in disbelief, half in admiration. “You do realize we’re terrible at balloon animals, right? Last time, you made something that looked like a deflated dachshund.” “That was last year. I’ve been practicing.” Bill flexed his fingers dramatically. “Also, I borrowed your glitter set. Nothing distracts parents like a little sparkle.” Molly pretended to glare. “You better not mess up my glitter, Bill. Remember when you spilled it all over your shoes and the cats tracked it everywhere?” He grinned sheepishly. “Cats still purr glitter.” Molly sighed, then smirked. “Alright, balloon animal clown and face painter it is. But we need an exit strategy.” Bill nodded seriously. “Easy. We load up the bag and sneak out through the garden gate. I scoped it out—mom’s neighbor’s dog always escapes during parties. We just have to dodge him.” “That hound’s like a furry missile,” Molly said, face twisting in mock horror. “Why must everything involve dogs?” Bill shrugged. “Adds to the thrill. Hey, what’s a heist without a little canine chaos?” Molly shook her head, chuckling. “You’re insane. But, okay, let’s do this. For the presents.” Bill stretched out his hand, and Molly bumped it with a grin. “Operation Candyland Commando is a go.” “Just promise me one thing,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “No glitter on the loot.” Bill laughed. “No glitter on the loot. Deal.”