Molly crouched behind a row of plastic folding chairs scattered in restless disorder. She tapped her gloved fingers against a chipped tabletop. Bill hovered nearby, chewing gum loudly, breath fogging the windowpane. A half deflated balloon sighed in the corner alongside a lonely Punch and Judy favor. Shadows from miniature string lights trembled across the linoleum floor. A whisper of giggles drifted through a crack in the door, rudely reminding them of the golden bounty of birthday gifts just beyond reach. Bill whispered, “What’s the plan, Molly? We can’t look like ordinary guests.” Molly smirked. “We’ll disguise ourselves as pinch-hungry clowns.” Bill rolled his eyes. “Clowns? I’m allergic to colorful wigs.” Molly pressed a finger to his lips. “Laugh now; we’ll change outfits in the bathroom. We slip in, snag every present, and vanish before frosting hits the cake.” Bill scanned the backyard beyond and gave a hesitant nod. “Alright, but how do we handle surveillance parents? They have eyes like hawks.” Molly tapped a blueprint sketched on a napkin. “We create a diversion with that bubble machine. Kids will chase soap bubbles instead of noticing our bags.” Outside, the party’s playlist thumped a saccharine tune through flimsy walls. Molly jiggled a makeshift crowbar and checked labels on gift bags lined like hostages. Bill unloaded two bulging backpacks. He whispered, “Seriously, Molly, cupcakes will be bad for crime scene reports.” Molly laughed low. “We’ll eat them later. Now focus on the registry by the snack table.” They navigated a narrow hallway stacked with unwrapped boxes. His reflection trembled in a decorative mirror shaped like a unicorn. Bill glanced at Molly. “No unicorns were harmed, right?” Molly rolled her eyes. “Only egos, maybe.” Molly pressed a fingertip against an alarm pad. It sparked like a firefly caught in a jar. Bill held his breath, fingers trembling near his flashlight. Suddenly, a head popped around the corner. Bill squeaked, “Check the sock drawer!” The intruder, a lanky teenager wearing mismatched socks, jumped back. Molly grinned widely. “Enjoy the bubble machine, kid. It’s the final distraction.” She slammed a soap-emitting device live. Foam coated the linoleum as shrieks and laughter erupted. Two parents darted into the hallway, eyes widened. Bill grabbed Molly’s arm. “We’ve got seconds before they figure it out.” Molly winked. “Then let’s vanish with the loot.” Sirens edged closer from the street as two police cars cruised by the yard. Inside, screams mingled with bubbles while Molly stuffed ornaments and toys into her bag. Bill slid across the floor on roller skates, gathering the last pile of wrapped goodies. A sudden flash of red lights flickered through frosted windows. He nudged Molly. “Final sweep?” Molly nodded, grin lit by porch lights. Together they sprinted down the driveway, clown wigs bobbing. Bill twisted the gate, Molly hopped over the low fence with gift sacks perched on her shoulder. She tossed confetti. Bill grinned, “Operation Cakewalk’s complete, Molly. Time for our victory pie. Smells like sweet success and leftover frosting.”