Molly leaned against the chipped fence, eyeing the brightly decorated yard bursting with balloons and streamers. Bill adjusted his oversized sunglasses, trying to look inconspicuous. "So, Bill, are you sure about this? Stealing from a bunch of kids? I mean, isn’t that a little...mean?" Molly asked, raising an eyebrow. Bill snorted. "Come on, Molly. It’s not stealing from the kids. It’s a heist. Think of the loot! Glittery bikes, cupcake sets, teddy bears—it's practically treasure chests." Molly crossed her arms. "Yeah, but kids are so clingy about their presents. Remember Rebecca? She cried for hours because someone took her princess doll." "Exactly! That’s why we’re doing them a favor," Bill said with a grin. "What they don’t know won’t hurt them. Besides, it’s all for the good of comedy bookstores and stogie cigars." She looked skeptical. "You said that last time, and we ended up in the principal's office. Plus, I don’t think a couple of stolen presents are exactly 'good for comedy.'" Bill pressed a finger to his lips dramatically. "Shush. That’s why you’re in charge of the distraction." Molly groaned. "Distraction? You want me to juggle flaming torches again? Last time I nearly set the bushes on fire." "Exactly! The kids will be so mesmerized by your fiery performance that they won’t notice us sneaking in through the side gate." "Yeah, and then what? We crawl around on our hands and knees like some kind of emergency rat patrol?" "Now you're thinking! We find the biggest pile of presents, toss a few in our bag, and vanish like smoke." Molly fidgeted. "And what if I fail? What if the kids see us? I don’t want to end up like that guy on the news for dumpster diving." Bill waved her worries away. "Don’t be dramatic. We’re professionals. Besides, the only real risk is getting caught by Mrs. Jenkins. She’s as scary as a shivering hyena." "Mrs. Jenkins? The one with the giant hat and a face like a thunderstorm? She scares me more than the idea of elephantiasis." "Exactly. That’s why she’s perfect. She’ll be watching the kids, and we’ll slip past her like shadows." Molly hesitated, then chuckled. "All right. But I get to set a trap if anything goes wrong." "Trap? Like what? A bucket of water above the door? We’re not Suburban Supervillains, Molly." "No, like a—hmm—drop a bag of glitter on her head. That’ll show her." Bill burst out laughing. "Brilliant! Nothing like a twinkling Mrs. Jenkins to brighten her day." Molly smirked. "All right, then. Here’s the plan: I’ll cause a distraction, you sneak around to the side, locate the treasure chest of presents—and remember, no taking the tiny, sparkly unicorn unless we’re considering a case of glitter overload." "Got it. No unicorn—at least until I get us a good loot. And if anything goes sideways, we make a hasty retreat." "Or I set off my fiery torch," Molly added with a grin. Bill nodded. "We’ve got this. Just two nerdy thieves, about to make history—at least, the kind that involves a lot of squeaky toys and wrapping paper." Molly took a deep breath. "Okay, let’s do this. Time for some chaos—and maybe a little mischief." "Agreed. Let’s turn this birthday bash into our personal treasure hunt."