The moon cast a pale glow over the suburban cul-de-sac as Molly and Bill crouched behind a row of hedges, their silhouettes barely visible against the faint streetlight. Molly pulled out a crumpled blueprint she had sketched earlier, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Alright, Bill," she whispered, carefully unfolding the paper. "Here's the plan. The party's in the backyard, right? Out front, there's a slide and a sandbox. We slip in through the backyard gate—see that, it’s slightly ajar—then hit the gift table. Easy peasy." Bill squinted at the diagram, nodding slowly. "You really think they'll notice a couple of missing presents? I mean, it's a children's party. What could possibly go wrong?" Molly rolled her eyes, smirking. "Oh, sure. Because kids are known for their meticulous gift security. And parents? They’re too busy with cake and cupcakes to notice a few things missing." Bill chuckled. "Yeah, right. So, what's the play if things get rowdy? Like... I don't know, someone spots us?" She grinned. "Simple. I bring the fake mustache and sunglasses—always a classic. Plus, I’ve got a whistle. In case we need a distraction, I blow that, everyone turns around, and we make a dash for it." He raised an eyebrow. "Distraction sounds good. What about the dogs? Ricky’s got that rabid chihuahua he calls 'Fang.' That little monster sounds like a chainsaw." Molly shrugged. "Fang's more bark than bite. Besides, I brought peanut butter to distract him if needed." She pulled out a small jar from her backpack. "See? Instant peace offering." Bill rubbed his chin. "You're surprisingly prepared. But what if we get caught? I mean, the last time I tried something sneaky, I tripped over the host's inflatable dinosaur." She giggled softly. "That was hilarious. But don’t worry. We just need to move fast. Kids are distracted by the face painting, the piñata, and the endless sugar rush. We’ll be in and out before anyone notices." He nodded again, glancing around nervously. "And how do we carry all these presents without looking suspicious?" Molly gestured to a pair of collapsible duffel bags she had stashed behind a bush. "Secret pockets. We stuff the gifts in here, then vanish." Bill looked skeptical but nodded. "Okay, okay. Sounds doable. But remember—the plan is foolproof until someone offers us candy. Kids and sweets? Dangerous combo." She grinned. "Trust me, I’ve got a sweet tooth weakness. But I also have a plan. When we’re inside, I’ll pretend to be a clown. Kids love clowns. They’ll come running, and we’ll slip right past." "Clown? That might be the best idea you've ever had," Bill said with mock admiration. "Unless you scare them instead." "Please," Molly said, puffing up her chest. "Kids love clowns. It's the adults who get creeped out. Besides, I’ve got the red nose and wig. They’ll never know it's us." A distant giggle from the party floated over. Molly looked at her watch. "Okay, team, time to move. Remember: swift, silent, and funny." Bill straightened his cap. "Got it. No funny business... too late for that, probably." They exchanged a quick glance and edged closer to the driveway, trying to suppress their giggles. The backyard was bustling with children chasing each other, parents chatting and laughing, and the faint sound of music. Molly took a deep breath, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Ready?" she asked softly. "Ready," Bill whispered back. With a shared nod, they sprinted toward the gate, slipping inside just as a group of kids squealed in delight at a clown jumping out of a box. Molly activated her fake mustache, and Bill adjusted his sunglasses as they crept closer to the gift table, the plan already unfolding into chaos—and comedy.