Night. Two thieves crouch outside suburban house. Molly: "The party's inside, kids squealing like a pack of sugar-high raccoons. We in?" Bill: "I brought my glitter gun. It shoots confetti. Perfect distraction." Molly: "Confetti’s cheap. We need something bigger. How about fake cake?" Bill: "Cake? It's dry. Kids don't care if it’s real. They just smash it." Molly: "Exactly. We swap the cake, wait for chaos, then slip to the gift table." Bill: "Table loaded: dolls, remote cars, that unicorn everything. Jackpot." Molly: "Time it with the magician’s rabbit reveal. Everyone gasps, we grab the haul." Bill: "What if the rabbit jumps on our heads?" Molly: "We run. Plan B: glitter bombs. Flash, bloom of sparkle, boom—confusion." Bill: "And we dive into the wrapping paper pile." Molly: "Like blind mice. Then deliver everything to our fence sale tomorrow." Bill: "Kids will cry, parents will blame magic party ghosts." Molly: "Perfect alibi. Squeaky shoes off, gloves on, window’s unlocked." Bill: "You got the crowbar? Pink sparkles? No?" Molly: "Borrowed your neon toolkit. Let's go, partner." Bill: "Remember the flank exit through the ball pit?" Molly: "Kids will dive in. We slip through the drain. Exit stage left." They slip through door.