Molly crouched behind the bright yellow bouncy castle, watching dozens of six-year-olds shriek with sugar-fueled joy. The mountain of wrapped presents on the patio table gleamed like treasure in the afternoon sun. "This is it, Bill," she whispered into her earpiece. "Operation Birthday Bonanza." "I still think we should've gone with a bank," Bill's voice crackled back from his position near the garden shed. "Remember when we had dignity?" "Banks don't have Spider-Man wrapping paper worth fifty bucks a roll," Molly replied, adjusting her disguise mustache. "Besides, look at that haul. These helicopter parents dropped serious cash." "Fine, but if we get arrested, I'm telling them you planned everything." A clown stumbled past Molly's hiding spot, juggling badly and muttering about his student loans. She seized the moment. "Moving in now," she said. "Create the distraction." "On it," Bill said. "Releasing the birthday magic in three, two..." The garden sprinklers suddenly erupted, soaking the bouncy castle and sending children squealing toward the house. Parents scrambled like confused sheep, grabbing towels and shouting orders nobody followed. "Beautiful chaos," Molly breathed, sprinting toward the present table. "You missed your calling as a special effects coordinator." "I'm a man of many talents," Bill replied. "Unlike you, I didn't peak at pickpocketing candy from convenience stores." Molly grabbed an armload of packages, stuffing them into her oversized party bag. "For your information, that candy funded our first apartment." "Our first cardboard box behind the dumpster doesn't count as an apartment." "It had character!" she protested, scooping up more presents. "And excellent ventilation." The clown appeared again, this time without his juggling balls, looking directly at Molly with suspicious red-rimmed eyes. "Hey, lady," the clown called out. "You're not supposed to be near those presents." Molly froze, her arms full of stolen birthday gifts. "I'm just... organizing them?" "Nice try, mustache woman." Bill's voice buzzed urgently in her ear. "Abort mission! The birthday boy's dad looks like he bench presses refrigerators for fun." "Can't abort now," Molly hissed back. "I've got a Nintendo Switch in this bag." "Run, you crazy person!" The clown honked his nose and pointed at her. "Present thief! Present thief!" Molly bolted toward the fence, her fake mustache fluttering behind her like a hairy flag of defeat. Children cheered, thinking it was part of the entertainment. "Next time," she panted, vaulting over the garden gate, "we're definitely robbing a bank." "Next time," Bill replied, "I'm finding a partner who doesn't get outsmarted by birthday clowns." "That clown was clearly ex-military," Molly protested, clutching her bag of pilfered toys as they disappeared into the suburban afternoon.