Molly crouched behind the flamingo lawn ornament, peering cautiously at the brightly lit backyard. “Bill, are you sure about this? Stealing from a bunch of kids? That feels—” “Come on, Molly,” Bill whispered, grinning wildly. “You’re always worried about the pity party. Think of the loot! Those presents are practically begging to be snatched.” “Begging? No, they’re wrapped in shiny paper and surrounded by bubbles and cupcakes. This is a kids’ party, not a treasure trove.” She nudged him, glancing at the inflatable bounce house. “And it’s a tiny party, too. How many presents are even out here?” Bill squatted and checked his fake mustache in his pocket mirror. “Enough to make the Hobbit’s gold look like pocket change. Besides, look around.” He gestured wildly. “They’ve got a mountain of gifts. I bet an entire trolley could fit in this yard.” Molly folded her arms. “And what’s your grand plan, exactly? We just waltz in, grab the swag, and waltz out?” “Exactly,” Bill said with a grin. “I’ve been casing this joint all afternoon. I know every nook and cranny. The front door’s locked, but there’s a loose panel in the fence at the back. That’s our entry point.” “That fence weighs a ton,” Molly said skeptically. “And the panel’s probably blocking access for a reason.” Bill nodded eagerly. “That’s what makes it perfect. No security cameras, no alarms—except the giant inflatable clown at the gate. But that’s more for decor than defense. We just slip inside, grab how many presents we can carry, then peace out.” Molly looked over her shoulder. “And what about the kids? What if one sees us?” Bill shrugged. “Let’s face it, the kids are more interested in popping balloons than noticing a couple of robbers. Besides,” he wagged a finger, “we’re not hurting anyone. Just borrowing some toys that are ‘accidentally’ left behind.” “‘Borrowing’?” Molly echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Details,” Bill chirped. “What matters is that we get the loot and get out before the cake comes out. That’ll be our signal—no cake, no deal!” Molly hesitated, eyeing the line of presents wrapped with glitter and bows. “Fine. But if we get caught, I’m blaming you.” “I’d expect nothing less,” Bill said, grinning. “Alright, here's the plan: I sneak through the fence, create a distraction—maybe kick over that stack of plastic chairs—and while everyone’s busy rescuing their furniture, you go for the big pile of presents near the punch bowl.” Molly frowned. “Wouldn’t that be risky? What if someone sees me?” “Trust me,” Bill said confidently. “I’ve thought of everything. I’ve been watching this party for hours. I know exactly when to strike. Oh, and here.” He handed her a pair of gloves. “No fingerprints. We’re professionals now.” “Professionals who are about to get chased by a bunch of angry parents,” Molly muttered, slipping on the gloves. Bill chuckled. “Come on, where’s your spirit? Remember, we’re the Robin Hood of toy theft—minus the moral dilemma, obviously.” Molly rolled her eyes but smirked. “Alright, Captain Loot-sea, what's next?” “Next, we make history,” Bill whispered dramatically. “Or at least, a memorable afternoon of stealing toys and eating cake afterward.” Molly shook her head, but her grin betrayed her amusement. “You’re crazy, Bill. But crazy’s exactly why I’m in.” “Good,” Bill said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Let’s go turn this birthday bash into a fleecing frenzy.” They moved silently toward the fence, their shadows flickering under the glow of string lights. Molly took a deep breath, lifting her foot over the fence panel, while Bill prepared to create his distraction. It was going to be a big day—but not for the reason anyone present expected.