The crescent moon hovered above the Johnsons’ backyard. Molly crouched behind a hedgerow, peering through a white picket fence. Balloons bobbed above the lawn. Through the open door, giggles and party music drifted. Piles of wrapped boxes lay near a brightly decorated table. Bill tapped Molly’s shoulder. Their mission: slip in, grab every present, and vanish before anyone noticed. Silence, speed, sugar-fueled chaos. Molly: "Do you see the giant teddy bear over there? It's practically calling our names. We can't leave it behind." Bill: "Stop whispering so loud, Molly. Kids will hear us from inside the door and the parents are hogging the karaoke machine." Molly: "I counted at least twenty gift bags stacked against the fence. If we snag half, we could retire in Vegas tonight." Bill: "Only snag half? I'm thinking we empty the place. It's a kids' party, not Fort Knox. No half measures here." Molly: "Fine, total sweep. But what about that beagle tied to the porch? It looks like it bites more souvenirs than it chews." Bill: "That beagle could sniff out a cookie from a mile away. Do you have any treats or a distraction plan ready?" Molly: "Trust me, I stashed cookies in my coat. If it sniffs trouble, I’ll stage a chocolate chip hostage situation. Instant diversion." Bill: "Perfect. Once the beagle's busy, we head for the gift table and work fast. No noise, no heroics, just speed." Molly: "What about the piñata? If someone swings a bat, it could ruin our timing or spill our loot onto the grass." Bill: "Chaos actually helps. When candy rains down, kids scramble and cry, giving us cover to stack everything into these duffel bags." Molly: "Duffel bags? Those straps will squeak if we're not careful. I prefer pillowcases. They’re quieter, plus mismatched kids might think they're party favors." Bill: "Pillowcases it is. And look, there’s a wagon in the corner. We could pile presents in and tow them out." Molly: "A miniature child’s wagon? We might as well lead with a neon 'Thieves at Work' sign. But it could work if we’re quick." Bill: "All right, wagon and pillowcases. Let's get the beagle's attention first. On my mark, you throw a cookie, I sprint inside." Molly: "Got it. Three… two… one… now! (She flings a cookie across the lawn.) Beagle's chasing crumbs! Move before someone tries karaoke on us." Molly: "All right, grab as many presents as you can without flattening the glad wrap. I’ll drag that wagon, you stuff pillowcases." Bill: "Three… two… one… Showtime. Let’s be in and out before that birthday boy realizes every gift vanished and his parents never suspect a thing." As Molly and Bill scooted across the lawn, the wind carried the faint sound of a child’s excited gasp. They jostled gift bags and shoved toys into pillowcases and the wagon until it bulged with brightly wrapped generosity. Molly wiped her brow as Bill lowered the wagon’s handle. With silent nods and racing hearts, they wheeled their bounty toward the street, ready to disappear into the night, leaving behind only an empty party and astonished parents.