Moonlight and string lights painted the backyard in pastel hues. Children’s chatter drifted over the bushes. A low fence pinned the thieves’ focus. Molly perched on a plastic flamingo, Bill knelt beside a bowl of lollipops. They whispered their heist plan in excitement softly. Molly: "Bill, are you absolutely certain the beverage station will distract every adult?" Bill: "Absolutely. My cousin’s punch is so sticky they’ll be glued to the rink." Molly: "I’ve memorized the guest list. That princess cake is glazed with edible glitter." Bill: "We’ll be in and out before someone notices their Lego pile is missing." Molly: "Don’t forget the decoy. I’ll fire confetti cannons to mask our crinkling." Bill: "Perfect. As soon as we breach the yard, I’ll initiate Operation Balloon Curtain." Molly: "Remember our signal: three squeaks from my rubber chicken and one honk from yours." Bill: "Got it. Then we shimmy past the clown photo booth to the gift table." Molly: "I’ll snag gift bags, you collect any stray coins or cash envelopes." Bill: "And after that, exit stage left into my trusty van disguised as Party Depot." Molly: "We dressed as assistant clowns. No one will question oversized shoes or neon wigs." Bill: "Right, it’s only creepy if you stare too long at my face paint." Molly: "Stay quick, stay quiet, and remember the golden rule: no glitter explosions indoors." Bill: "Gotcha. If glitter spreads, we end up trailing sparkles back to our hideout." Molly: "One hiccup: the kid whisperer—Timmy spotted us last year at the Halloween gala." Bill: "He’s preoccupied untying balloon animals. That gives us exactly ninety seconds to hustle." Molly: "On my mark: one… two… three… swoop! To the cakes, then toys, then freedom." Bill: "Affirmative. Let’s make this the sweetest heist in children’s party history." Molly: "I’ll zip the bags to my belt. Don’t forget the phantom retreat password." Bill: "Passcode: glitterbomb, activate." They slipped through the gap under the fence, wigs glinting in the lantern light. A cluster of parents swayed by the punch bowl, eyes glued to spilled cups, creating a perfect corridor of empty turf. Molly and Bill tiptoed across the lawn like oversized toddlers with sticky gloves. The gift table splayed before them like a glittering treasure island. They lunged forward, ripping open gift bags, scooping plush animals and miniature drones into three separate zippers across their costumes. The rasp of fabric as it stretched was a melody of triumph. A disco ball flashed overhead as Bill’s red nose knocked against a balloon animal, causing a squeal that threatened to expose their presence. Molly yanked him behind a topiary, smothering his wig with her clown shoe. Heartbeats hammered in unison as they hauled presents toward the fence. Behind them, the faint sound of an approaching toddler bell rang like an alarm. With a silent nod, they surged forward, scaling the fence in a coordinated circus act. Molly somersaulted to the other side, landing in a tangle of gardening tools. They dusted themselves off, arms full of spoils. Giggling like schoolchildren, they sprinted into the alley, leaving behind confetti trail and laughter of oblivious birthday guests.