Molly crouched behind a pile of balloon-weight anchors. The backyard was quiet except for the distant thud of children’s laughter. Strings of pastel pennants fluttered overhead, and a table groaned beneath rainbow-wrapped gifts. She fiddled with her lockpicking kit, heart pounding like a drum roll from the DJ’s speaker. Bill: "You sure Mrs. Henderson bribed the parents to leave before cake?" Molly: "Bribed? She used operant conditioning, positive reinforcement, and a bribe." Bill: "So we’re basically academic criminals." Molly: "Exactly. Now duck before the piñata police spot us." Bill flattened himself against the vinyl side of the bounce house. Led by a trio of toddlers, the next slider climbed in. Shadows dancing by the lemonade dispenser looked like party entertainment. Molly clipped a thin LED to her earlobe and whispered about bail money tucked in the garden gnome. Bill: "Are you telling me the gnome holds our payout?" Molly: "It’s cunning. Gnome stands guard, no one suspects a ceramic banker." Bill: "Better than stashing in your unicorn purse." Molly: "Hey, that purse paid for three heists last month." They pressed forward, silent as sugar whispers. Balloons bobbed like guard dogs too full of helium to notice trespassers. Bill checked his phone—twenty minutes until cake cutting. A group photo would break the spell, leaving the room gaping. Molly winked, acknowledging both the absurdity and elegance of their plan. Bill: "I hate group photos more than police lineups." Molly: "Just pretend everyone’s wearing clown shoes." Bill: "If a kid asks, we’re lost entertainers named Bubbles and Spark." Molly: "Got it. Ready the smoke bomb in the pinata." Bill held the pinata aloft, a rainbow sheep with a suspiciously gaping mouth. Molly struck it with dramatic flair while watching the party host sunbathed in parental incoherence. She slipped a tiny canister inside, the kind that erupts in purple fog. A final tug and the sheep grunted, as if reluctant to fulfill its carnival duty. Bill: "Moment of truth in three...two...one." Purple smoke billowed from the sheep’s backside. Screams turned to giggles as parents fumbled for cameras. Molly and Bill slipped between legs and presents, pilfering each gift with graceful precision. A toppled juice box proved a perfect distraction. The DJ clumsily cued 'Happy Birthday,' signaling their final act. Molly: "Time to vanish like unreasonable magicians." Bill: "Exit stage left before someone demands cake justice." Bill: "I got Santa on speed dial, in case we need backup." Molly: "Backup? We’re thieves with a pinata smoke bomb, not crisis negotiators." Bill: "Fine. But if charisma fails, I have tiny handcuffs for comedic effect." Molly: "Your last ‘comedic’ effect ended with us hiding in a garbage can." Bill: "That was a high-stakes recycling tribute." Molly: "Next time let’s avoid the piñata and its vendettas." Bill: "Deal. But where else can we inhale sugar-fueled chaos and profit?" Molly: "Children’s parties are the new casino: sugar highs instead of slot machines." Bill: "Next heist: an ice cream social with live goats." Molly: "I’ve already acquired goat-proof boots. We’re unstoppable." Bill: "And morally bankrupt—but that’s half the fun." Molly: "Okay genius, let’s toast stolen cake crumbs when we’re rich." Bill: "To the thieves: may our loot stay unwrapped and unguarded."