“We’re here only for presents, no feelings,” Molly whispered urgently. “Did you disable the motion sensors?” Bill asked, voice trembling. “You ready for the heist of your career?” Molly whispered. “Be careful not to peek like that!” Molly scolded softly. “I can’t believe we’re stealing a five year old’s party.” “Hand me that hook,” Bill demanded, tone authoritative yet nervous. “First rule: never underestimate the power of distraction,” she declared. “I can see cookies,” Bill whispered, eyes glued to crack. “We’ll need balloons, music, and a rubber chicken,” he noted. She rolled her eyes before pulling a spool of string. “What’s the chicken for?” Molly asked, squinting at Bill’s hands. “It’s our secret weapon. Boing chaos go hand in hand.” Molly tucked the hook into her belt, smiling with excitement. “I have the distraction rig ready. Cue the duck horns.” A squeak echoed at them as a raccoon scurried past. “That’s code red!” Bill hissed, pressing palm to her back. Inside, the party lights flickered over tables loaded with gifts. “You take left side, I’ll handle right,” Molly instructed swiftly. Bill crept forward, his footsteps soft on the linoleum floor. “There... see the pile of unicorn plush toys?” he whispered. Giggles erupted suddenly when children began playing pin the tail. Molly looped the string around a deflated balloon cluster cheerfully. “Ready?” she murmured, eyeing the mountain of wrapped boxes cautiously. Bill pocketed a shiny kazoo as backup noise maker slyly. He cracked his knuckles before inching toward the gift table. “I’ll distract them with honking symphony,” Bill whispered, raising kazoo. Outside, the security camera blinked red, oblivious to the scheme. “Now!” Molly hissed, whipping the grappling hook toward a skylight. The hook caught with a clang, rattling frightened party balloons. “Perfect!” Bill crowed, pressing on the kazoo with gusto wildly. A shrill honk pierced the room. Kids jumped and pointed. Molly swung inside, somersaulting gracefully over plastic chairs theatrically awesomely. She scooped gifts into a duffel bag with precision furtively. “Don’t forget the gold-wrapped train set in the corner, please.” Bill zipped open the bag, revealing a rainbow of toys. “Say we celebrate with loot muffins,” Molly suggested, eyeing cupcakes. Outside, sirens wailed in the distance, the arrival of cops. “Time to skedaddle!” he yelled, thrusting bag over his shoulder. Molly grabbed glitter and frenziedly catapulted it toward the door. The glitter stormed the hallway like a sparkly avalanche brilliantly. “Go, go, go!” Molly urged as they dashed through hedges. Sirens drew nearer Bill scrambled frantically and gracefully over fence. Molly slid down a drainpipe, landing in a puddle determinedly. “Meet at the van in thirty seconds,” she gasped laughing. They sprinted through back alleys, the stolen bag bobbing wildly. A child’s squeal echoed from the party entrance in protest. Bill panted triumphantly, proclaiming them legends of glitter theft proudly. Molly laughed, hair streaked with sparkles from the glitter battle. “Next stop: cupcake hideaway. We divvy the spoils,” she chuckled. And racing pulses they vanished into the night laughing victoriously.