The flickering neon sign of "Sparkle & Shine Party Emporium" cast a lurid pink glow onto the alleyway where Molly and Bill huddled. A rogue pizza slice, possibly a casualty of a previous botched operation, lay abandoned near a dented dumpster. "Alright, Bill, recap for me," Molly whispered, her voice a low rasp that always sounded like she gargled with gravel. She adjusted her fingerless gloves, the leather worn smooth from years of… well, Molly preferred not to dwell on the specifics. Bill, whose face permanently seemed to be contemplating the existential dread of lukewarm coffee, nodded. "Target: Sparkle & Shine. Objective: acquisition of all gift-wrapped merchandise currently on premises. Intel suggests a… 'Magical Monday' themed children's birthday bash is scheduled for 3 PM." "Magical Monday," Molly snorted, a sound like a rusty hinge being forced open. "Sounds thrilling. Did Brenda give us the layout?" "She did. The main vault is disguised as a giant inflatable unicorn. Brenda assures us it's surprisingly robust. Apparently, little Timmy can't resist a good sparkle." Bill consulted a crumpled napkin that served as their blueprint. "Entry point: the ventilation shaft above the ball pit. Classic, I know, but surprisingly effective for getting behind the sugar-fueled masses." "Ball pit," Molly mused, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Always a rich source of dropped coins and questionable hygiene. So, the unicorn vault. How do we crack that bad boy?" "Brenda also provided this," Bill produced a small, shimmering potion bottle filled with a viscous, rainbow-colored liquid. "She calls it 'Unicorn Unction.' Apparently, it lubricates its way into any festive, manufactured material." Molly raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Brenda owes us big time for this. Last time she gave us 'Ghostly Goo' and we ended up haunting Mrs. Higgins' prize-winning petunias for a week." "This is different," Bill insisted, though his tone lacked conviction. "This is… magic. For a children's party. It's practically artisanal." "Right. So, I go through the vents, land in the ball pit, navigate the sea of sticky hands and rogue balloons, and then what? Do I do a little song and dance to distract the parents?" Molly asked, her sarcasm dripping like melting ice cream. "No, no. You locate the unicorn. I'll be on exterior… uh… lookout. And crowd control. I’ve got the confetti cannon." Bill held up a ridiculously oversized, glitter-spewing device. Molly stared at him. "You're going to shoot confetti at a bunch of screaming toddlers?" "Positive reinforcement," Bill explained with a shrug. "They associate confetti with fun times. It’ll lull them into a false sense of security. Think of it as pre-party entertainment." "Brenda’s plans are starting to feel less like a heist and more like a performance art piece gone terribly wrong," Molly grumbled. "But fine. I’ll take the vent dive. You be ready with that… glitter bomb. And try not to stain the getaway car this time, Bill. Last week's incident with the raspberry jam was… memorable." "Understood. And remember, Molly, this isn't just about the presents. It's about the sweet, sweet satisfaction of outsmarting a room full of adults who think a bouncing castle is peak entertainment." Molly nodded, a glint in her eye. "And maybe a few extra bouncy castles for ourselves, if the unicorn is feeling generous."