Molly crouched behind the bush, peering through the chain-link fence at the colorful chaos beyond. Balloons bobbed in the wind, kids ran in circles with sticky hands waving, and a piñata dangled from a tree, tempting fate and candy alike. Bill adjusted his black cap and squinted. “Are you sure about this?” Bill muttered, glancing nervously around. “A kids’ party? Really?” Molly smirked. “Really. Presents. Unattended. Sugar-fueled chaos. It’s like target practice for amateurs who want free toys.” Bill folded his arms. “You call us amateurs?” “I call us professionals with a golden opportunity.” Molly glanced back at the lineup of wrapped boxes piled under the birthday banner. “Look at those shiny ribbons, Bill. It’s like Christmas in July.” Bill grunted. “Okay, but the parents. The screaming kids. The parents screaming louder.” Molly tapped a finger against her chin. “Solution?” “Disguise?” “Exactly. You wear the clown suit. I’m the magician.” Bill blinked. “I hate clowns. You know that.” Molly cocked an eyebrow. “You hate a lot of things. Like responsibility. Like paying rent. Like being sober.” Bill sighed. “Fair points. Just saying, I look terrifying, not funny.” “Terrifying is good when distracting,” Molly said, pulling a red nose from her bag. “Look, the plan is simple: you clown around, draw the crowd. I slip in, grab the goods. We exit stage left before anyone notices.” Bill shook his head with a reluctant grin. “You make it sound like a play.” Molly grinned wider. “Stealing is an art, Bill. Art is a play. Everything is a play.” Bill rubbed his chin. “Alright, Picasso, what’s the timing?” “Piñata breaks at 2:30. Mass chaos guaranteed. You start juggling. I swoop in during the second round of 'Happy Birthday' when everyone’s distracted.” Bill nodded slowly. “Okay. What about the exit?” “Garden gate. Locks sometimes stick. We bring a hairpin. Easy peasy.” Bill held up a finger. “You’re forgetting the dog. The big, barking one.” Molly laughed softly. “Spike? He’s napping in the sun like every overworked mutt. Plus, I brought treats.” Bill smirked. “You think a dog and a red nose will get us through the Great Toy Heist of the Century?” Molly’s eyes gleamed. “With skill and a sprinkle of luck, yes.” Bill took a deep breath. “Okay. What about the swag bag? You said party favors count as bonus loot, right?” Molly wagged a finger. “Those little bags are filled with gold — well, candy gold. Plus, a few surprises no one will miss.” Bill reached into his pocket. “Got the fake mustache?” Molly pulled hers out. “Always.” Bill stood up, stretching. “Alright, Molly, let’s clown around and become the legends of sticky fingers and wrapped treasures.” Molly gave a mock bow. “To the party, then. Children’s tears and sugar highs, here we come.” As they slipped away from the fence, Bill glanced over his shoulder. “You know, if this works, maybe next time we hit a high school prom.” Molly laughed. “Bill, I already have tuxedos ready for that night.” Bill shook his head, smiling. “You’re impossible.” “And that’s why we’re the best.”