In the dim glow of the abandoned warehouse, Molly perched on a dusty crate, eyes gleaming with mischief. Bill shuffled over, clutching a crumpled blueprint that looked more like a doodle than a plan. “You sure about this, Molly? Kids’ parties are chaos. We could end up with glitter all over us,” Bill muttered, adjusting his mask. Molly grinned. “That’s the point. Glitter’s just adult tears, Bill. Besides, how often do you get a chance to loot a room full of wrapped presents? It’s practically a treasure hunt.” Bill squinted at the map. “Okay, so we sneak in through the side door—wait, which side? We’re supposed to do this without getting caught, not starring in our own comedy show.” “The left one,” Molly said confidently. “There’s a service entrance that’s barely guarded. Think of it as our secret entrance. Kids won’t be expecting us to sneak in that way. We’ll be in and out before anyone notices.” He looked skeptical. “And the alarm?” “Disconnected, remember? The party’s in full swing, and the parents are distracted. It’s the perfect window.” Molly reached into her satchel and pulled out a small device. “I’ve got the jammer. Once we’re inside, no alarms, no sirens. We’re ghost thieves, Bill. Invisible, silent, and a little bit fabulous.” Bill tapped his chin. “Fabulous? That’s the part I’m worried about.” Molly rolled her eyes. “Trust me, Bill. I’ve planned this whole thing down to the cupcakes. No one’s gonna suspect a thing—except maybe the clown, but he’s usually too busy juggling.” He rubbed his hands together. “Alright, what’s the plan once we’re inside?” “Well, first, we disable the security cameras, then locate the gift table, which is always near the punch bowl—probably glowing with rainbow syrup and tiny umbrellas. We’ll bag every present we can carry—that’s the fun part—then dash out through the fire escape.” Bill pointed. “And what about the kids?” Molly smirked. “That’s where the real humor begins. We distract them with a fake clown. You’re good at impressions, right?” Bill cracked his knuckles. “I once did a pretty convincing mime at a birthday party. Should be easy.” “Great,” Molly said. “While you’re mime-ing your way into the chaos, I’ll be grabbing the loot. We should be done in ten minutes. Maybe less if we’re quick.” Bill hesitated. “And the parents? Won’t they notice a giant masked thief loading up presents?” “By the time they notice, we’ll be long gone. Remember, Bill, the whole point is to get in, kick back, grab the goods, and disappear before anyone notices. We’re not Santa. We’re the underworld’s Santa’s little helpers.” He chuckled nervously. “I still think maybe we should leave a note—‘Thanks for the gifts, but we’re taking a holiday of our own’—you know, to keep it funny.” Molly shook her head. “Bill, this isn’t a comedy tour. It’s a heist. Keep your jokes for after we’re rich and gone, okay?” He grinned behind his mask. “Got it, chief.” They exchanged a quick nod, steeling themselves. Molly checked her watch; the party was in full swing. The noise of children laughing, balloons bursting, and party horns blaring echoed faintly through the cracked wall. Bill pulled a small flashlight from his pocket. “Ready when you are?” “Always,” Molly whispered, slipping her hand into her pocket for the tiny lockpick. “Let’s make this a party to remember—for all the right reasons.”