Molly flattened the wrinkled napkin against the dashboard, stabbing a gloved finger at their crude diagram of the backyard. She adjusted her binoculars, scanning the chaotic scene where children screamed near a terrifying clown. "The perimeter is porous," she whispered. "We strike when he saws the rabbit." Bill nervously adjusted his tactical party hat, the elastic string digging into his thick chin. He checked his utility belt, which currently held silly string and a grappling hook made of licorice. "I’m worried about the bouncy castle," Bill murmured. "The structural integrity seems compromised." "Forget the castle," Molly snapped, loading her super-soaker with grape soda. "Focus on the payload. The gift table is unguarded." Bill trembled, watching a Golden Retriever yawn near the fence. "What about the security beast?" "It’s asleep," Molly sighed, checking the wind direction. "The real threat is the grandmother. She wields that cane like a baton." "Extraction time?" "Two minutes," she confirmed. "You grab the loot; I create a sticky diversion." "You’re a genius, Mol." Molly pulled on a red foam nose. "Act natural. We’re just two oversized toddlers." "I practiced my tantrum," Bill said, crouching low. "Save it."