Molly sat on the wobbly park bench, flicking a half-eaten lollipop stick at a pigeon. Bill, ever the more organized one, consulted a crumpled napkin covered in what could only be described as a child’s drawing of a house. “Okay, so the intel is solid,” Bill announced, tapping the napkin. “Mrs. Higgins, 42 Elm Street. Birthday party for her nephew, Timmy, turning seven. Twelve confirmed attendees. Twelve presents. And, crucially, a bouncy castle.” Molly snorted, her eyes still on the defiant pigeon. “A bouncy castle? Bill, are we sure we haven’t hit a new low? Stealing from seven-year-olds at a bouncy castle party?” “Think of the efficiency, Molly! A contained environment. Distraction built-in. And honestly, some of those presents for Timmy are probably better than the stuff we usually get. Last time, it was a slightly used toaster and a dog-eared copy of ‘A Brief History of Time.’” “That toaster was German engineering, Bill, and that book had some surprisingly insightful footnotes.” “Right. Anyway, the plan is this: ingress via the side gate. The one with the wonky latch. You’re on present duty. I’m on… anti-parent duty.” Molly finally turned her attention to Bill, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Anti-parent duty? What does that even entail?” “Distraction. Diversion. Perhaps a well-placed tripping hazard. You know, general shenanigans to keep their eyes off the present pile.” “And what if a parent is particularly… vigilant?” Bill smirked. “That’s where the super-soakers come in. Strategic, non-threatening, but definitely diverting. Filled with lemonade, of course. Sticky and distracting without being a crime on its own.” Molly’s grin widened. “Lemonade super-soakers. I like it. Very ‘unforeseen circumstances’ of you.” “Precisely. Now, for the timing. The cake will be brought out around 3:30. That's the prime window. All eyes on the frosting, all hands on the celebratory clapping. While they’re singing ‘Happy Birthday,’ you swoop in.” “Swoop in? Bill, these are seven-year-olds. They’ll notice a squirrel breathing too heavily. Let alone a grown woman making off with a suspiciously large sack.” “That’s why you’ll be disguised.” Molly raised an eyebrow. “Disguised as what, pray tell? A particularly large garden gnome?” “No, no, much more subtle. A party entertainer! Specifically, a clown.” Molly’s jaw dropped. “A clown? Bill, I have a pathological fear of clowns. The make-up, the oversized shoes, the silent judgment in their painted smiles… it’s too much.” “It’s the perfect cover! Unquestioned merriment. Free access to the party zone. No one suspects the clown is the one making off with little Timmy’s new remote-control car.” “I’m not wearing a red nose, Bill. I will absolutely refuse all red noses.” “Fine. No red nose. But you do have to carry the sack of presents. It’s part of the act. The ‘magic sack’ for disappearing goodies.” Molly sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if I get apprehended, I’m blaming it on the evil clown spirits possessing my soul.” “Duly noted. Now, about that bouncy castle. Operation ‘Wobbly Exit Ramp’ details…”