The surveillance van smelled faintly of stale coffee and highly illegal ferret musk. It was parked three houses down from the target, disguised as a flower delivery vehicle, though the faded lettering on the side actually read ‘Flowrs & Things’. Inside, Molly slapped a hand-drawn map against the dashboard, the paper crinkling under the weight of her tactical enthusiasm. She wore a black turtleneck despite the suburban summer heat. "Give me the sit-rep," Molly barked, checking her watch. "We are T-minus five minutes to the cake cutting." Bill, sweating profusely in a matching ski mask that he refused to take off, lowered his binoculars. He squinted through the eyeholes, his breath fogging up the lenses. "Visual confirmation on the loot," Bill whispered, his voice trembling with unearned gravitas. "The gift table is groaning, Molly. I see rectangular shapes. Hard corners. I think I even see a bicycle helmet, which implies the presence of a bicycle nearby. But the perimeter is hot." "Define hot. Are we talking private security? Guard dogs?" "Worse," Bill said. "Soccer moms. Three of them. They’re patrolling the buffet line with terrifying efficiency. One just engaged a toddler who tried to double-dip a chip. It was brutal. And there’s a clown near the bouncy castle making balloon animals. He looks shifty." Molly scoffed, pulling a grappling hook out of the glove compartment. It was made from a bent coat hanger and some shoelaces. "The clown is a non-combatant, Bill. He’s there for the paycheck. Focus on the objective. We need to infiltrate during the ‘Happy Birthday’ song. The auditory cover is essential. When they hit the high note on ‘dear Timmy,’ we breach the hedges." "I don’t know, Molly," Bill said, fiddling with the zipper of his utility vest. "Stealing from a five-year-old? It feels unethical. Even for us." "It’s a life lesson," she retorted, sharpening a plastic spoon. "We’re teaching him that material possessions are fleeting. We are literally doing a public service. Plus, my fence says he can move that limited edition Lego set for distinct cash. Do you want to pay rent this month or not?" "I do, but maybe we could just take the goody bags? Low risk, high sugar content." "We are not petty thieves, Bill! We are acquisition specialists. Now, did you bring the distraction device?" Bill reached into the back seat and produced a jar containing a very agitated squirrel. "Operation Nutcracker is ready. But I still think it’s dangerous. What if it bites the clown?" "Then the clown earns his hazard pay. Look, the father is bringing out the cake. The candles are lit. This is it. The thermal signature of that frosting is blinding." Molly kicked the door open, keeping low. She signaled for Bill to follow. They army-crawled across the manicured lawn, the smell of burning wax and desperation in the air. "Remember," Molly hissed over her shoulder. "Grab the biggest boxes first. If a parent engages, you tell them you’re with the magic show." "I don't know any magic tricks!" Bill panicked. "Then disappear, Bill! That’s the best trick of all."