The dimly lit basement reeked faintly of damp concrete and desperation, a familiar scent to Molly. She traced a grimy finger over a crudely drawn floor plan of the Henderson’s residence. “Okay, Bill, eyes on this. The main event is here,” she tapped a spot near the Christmas tree illustration, “the treasure trove. Wrapped in festive paper, glistening with untapped potential for resale.” Bill, a man built like a slightly deflated beach ball, grunted from his perch on an overturned bucket. “So, it’s just… a pile of presents?” His voice boomed, a little too enthusiastically. Molly winced, glancing towards the creaky stairs. “Keep it down, butterball. Yes, a pile of presents. Tomorrow, Mrs. Henderson is throwing little Timmy the ‘Superhero Extravaganza’. Which, according to my intel – a very gossipy Mrs. Gable three doors down – involves a bouncy castle shaped like a Batmobile and enough sugary beverages to fuel a small nation.” “Superhero Extravaganza,” Bill mused, nodding slowly. “So, tiny capes, plastic masks?” “Precisely. And nestled amongst the Spider-Man lunchboxes and Paw Patrol figures will be the real haul. We’re talking about the pièce de résistance: an unopened, limited edition ‘Captain Comet’ action figure. Apparently, it comes with a detachable rocket launcher. Gold, Bill. Pure, unadulterated gold.” Molly’s eyes gleamed. “Captain Comet,” Bill repeated, as if tasting the name. “Sounds powerful. Will it help me reach the top shelf in the pantry?” Molly sighed, rubbing her temples. “No, Bill, it’s a toy. For children. We’re not stealing it to play with. We’re stealing it to *sell*. Think of the fat stacks, Bill. Enough to finally buy that industrial-sized bag of cheese puffs you’ve been eyeing.” Bill’s eyes widened. “The ‘Mega-Mouth Munchies’?” he whispered reverently. “The very same,” Molly confirmed. “Now, the party starts at two. The adults will be distracted by small talk and lukewarm vol-au-vents, and the kids will be in a sugar-induced frenzy. Our window of opportunity is between the cake cutting and the inevitable tantrum over who gets to be the Hulk.” “So, the plan is?” Bill leaned forward, nearly toppling his perch. “The plan is simple elegance. You create your patented ‘Distraction Dance.’ Remember?” Molly tried to suppress a smirk. Bill puffed out his chest. “The ‘Wobbly Walrus Boogie’? Of course, I remember. It always gets them staring.” “Exactly. While the tiny superheroes are mesmerized by your… unique choreography, I’ll slip into the living room, locate the gift pile, and extract Captain Comet. Clean and quiet. Then, we’re out, richer and smelling vaguely of desperation and glitter.” “And the cheese puffs?” Bill’s voice was filled with unwavering hope. “And then, Bill,” Molly said, a genuine smile finally gracing her lips, “we drown ourselves in a sea of Mega-Mouth Munchies. Just try not to inhale the entire bag in one sitting this time.” Bill let out a booming laugh that echoed in the small basement. “No promises, Molly. No promises at all.”