Molly crouched behind the inflatable castle, narrowing her eyes at the throng of sugar-high kids bounding around like caffeinated squirrels. The birthday party sprawled across the backyard, a chaotic mosaic of balloons, streamers, and sticky-fingered little monsters. Bill, equally crouched, pulled a crumpled map from his jacket pocket and squinted at it. "Alright," Molly whispered, "Operation Sugar Heist is a go. But we’ve got to be quick." Bill grinned, looking ridiculous in his too-tight black outfit and a ski mask that kept slipping down over his nose. "Quick is my middle name. After ‘Professional’ and ‘Master’." Molly rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Let’s just focus. We get in, grab the presents, get out before the cake comes out. No one suspects a thing." Bill nodded solemnly. "No cake, no cops. Got it." They both stared at the table piled high with brightly wrapped gifts, glimmering under the sun as if daring them to try. “So, what’s the plan?” Molly asked, keeping her voice low. Bill tapped the map with a gloved finger. “We slip in through the side gate—less supervised. Kids don't usually patrol back there.” Molly raised an eyebrow. "Kids don’t patrol anything. Except the snack table, and even that’s questionable." Bill shrugged. “Okay, no kid patrol. Adult surveillance?” “Mom and Dad out front, manning the grill and pretending to be social. Perfect distractions.” Bill’s eyes sparkled. “Then we tiptoe to the gift table while Frosty the Clown juggles the little brats into a sugar coma.” “Which means,” Molly said, nodding, “Clown is our unwitting ally.” Bill grinned. “I always knew I’d make friends with a clown someday.” Molly smirked. “Don’t get too sentimental now.” Bill leaned closer. “If we get caught?” “We don’t get caught,” Molly said firmly. “But if we do, I use my patented ‘I thought this was the bathroom’ escape.” Bill laughed. “Classic Molly. Always prepared.” “Speaking of prep,” Molly said, rummaging into her bag, “I brought these.” She pulled out a pair of tiny plastic sunglasses and placed them over his eyes. Bill blinked. “What am I, a spy in a daycare?” “Exactly,” Molly said. “Blend in. No one suspects anything if you look like a tiny, stylish child.” Bill grinned under the plastic lenses. “I’m the coolest toddler in town.” Molly chuckled. “Alright, toddler. I’m gonna distract with the kids. You snag the presents. Then we rendezvous by the sandbox.” Bill stood up, wobbling in the sunglasses, and struck a pose. “Operation presents, commence!” Molly took a deep breath and stood as well, stepping out of the inflatable castle’s shadow. She called out to a group of kids, “Hey, who wants to see a magic trick?” The kids froze, eyes shining with excitement. “Magic!” one squealed. Bill darted toward the gift table, glancing back to see Molly entertaining a crowd with exaggerated handwaves and secret nods. He reached the mountain of toys and began stuffing them into an overlarge gift bag he’d stashed earlier. Wrapping paper tore, ribbons crinkled. A squeaky toy beeped in protest, but no one seemed to notice. “Smooth,” Molly called softly from behind her spellbound audience. Bill grinned, tipping an imaginary hat. “Too easy.” Suddenly, a small hand grabbed his shirt. Bill crouched, heart pounding. “Are you here for my presents?” a tiny voice asked. Bill blinked down at a little girl with pigtails and suspicious eyes. “Uh… no,” Bill stammered, “I’m...uh...here to borrow sugar! Yeah, that’s it.” Molly heard and froze. “Sugar?” she mouthed silently, eyebrows raised. Bill forced a smile. “Sugar. Real important.” The girl tilted her head. “Okay,” she said, letting go. “But can I come?” Bill’s smile faltered. “Maybe later?” Molly sidled over, whispering fiercely, “Bill, time to go!” He nodded, dumping the last present in the bag and following her lead. As they slipped away toward the sandbox, Molly whispered, “Next time, maybe we target a prison or something less... sugar-coated.” Bill laughed softly. “And miss the clown's juggling act? Never.” They disappeared into the chaos, two thieves with bags full of presents and pockets full of sticky candy wrappers, already planning their next absurd caper.