Molly adjusted her oversized clown nose while studying the blueprint of the suburban ranch house. Colorful balloons bobbed against the living room windows, and the sound of shrieking six-year-olds echoed from the backyard. Bill crouched beside her in the hedge, his rainbow wig slightly askew. "This feels morally questionable," Bill whispered, tugging at his polka-dot suspenders. "It's Tommy Henderson's birthday," Molly hissed back. "That kid once put gum in my sister's hair." The reconnaissance had taken weeks. They'd memorized the gift table layout, studied present-wrapping patterns, and even practiced their juggling routine as cover. Bill had insisted on the full clown disguise, reasoning that nobody questioned entertainers at children's parties. "What if they ask us to make balloon animals?" Molly patted her pocket filled with pre-made balloon dogs. She'd thought of everything except how ridiculous they'd look sprinting down Maple Street carrying armloads of wrapped presents while dressed as circus performers. A soccer ball sailed over the fence, landing at their feet. Through the gate, a small face peered out expectantly. Bill waved cheerfully, his oversized glove flopping comically. Their cover was about to be tested.