Molly: Okay, Bill, are you ready for the greatest heist of our lives? Bill: As ready as I'll ever be, Molly. But we’re actually stealing from a bunch of kids? Molly: It’s the perfect cover. No one suspects the party of a five-year-old's birthday bash. Plus, think of all the ridiculous toys. Bill: Yeah, but how do we even get in? Molly: Easy. The backyard fence is flimsy—wobbly as grandma’s dentures. I scoped it out yesterday. No guards, no alarms, just a bunch of giggling kids. Bill: Sounds dangerous. And what about the parents? Molly: We’ll be ghosts, Bill. Invisible to the naked eye. Just two shadowy figures slipping past the “Beware of the Dog” sign and tiptoeing into chaos. Bill: I dunno, Molly. What if we get caught? Molly: Don’t worry. We’ve got a secret weapon—my special smoke bombs. They’re harmless, but really good at creating distraction. Put on a good show and we’re out before anyone notices. Bill: Right, right. But what’s the plan once inside? Molly: First, we head straight to the table of presents. I’ve got a list of the best stuff. The giant teddy bear, the superhero masks, that fancy kid’s camera… you name it. Bill: And I suppose I’m the muscle? Molly: No, Bill. You’re the distraction. I’ll go in, grab the loot, and then you make sure no one trips over your big feet or calls the cops. Bill: My big feet? Come on, Molly. Speak for yourself—I’m nimble. Molly: If you’re so nimble, then squeeze through that tiny gap between the bushes and the fence. I’ll keep watch. Bill: Fine, but what if the kids start crying? Molly: Kids cry, Bill. It’s like a birthright. Just act casual. Pretend you’re looking for your lost hamster or something. Bill: My hamster’s dead, Molly. Molly: Then pretend you’ve got a migraine and you’re just here to steal some fun toys. Easy. Bill: And what about the adults? Molly: They’re too busy chatting about “nulling out the noise” or whatever—probably trying to hide their own troublemakers. We slip past, grab what we want, and vanish into the night. Bill: What if the kid with the pinwheel notices us? Molly: That’s when the smoke bombs come in. Boom! Distraction achieved. We melt into the shadows like ninja ghosts. Bill: Do we even have a getaway plan? Molly: Of course. We’ve got a bike stash at the corner. Drop the loot, pedal hard—no kiddie tricycles in sight. Bill: You’re pretty sure this will work? Molly: Bill, my dear, if we pull this off, we’ll be richer than the ice cream truck driver. Plus, the best part? No one will ever know until years later when the kids grow up and say, “That was weird. Someone stole my glittery unicorn.” Bill: That’s true. So, just to confirm—fence, smoke bombs, loot, pedal fast? Molly: Exactly. Now, get moving. The party’s just getting started—let’s make it legendary. Bill: And after? Molly: After? We split, count our treasures, and maybe hit the next birthday bash. Who knew stealing from kids could be this fun? Bill: If you say so, Molly. Let’s do this before the parents realize their little princesses and superheroes are missing their loot. Molly: Quiet now. Time to become the greatest invisible duo in the history of tiny party thefts.