Bill adjusted his ski mask, sweating profusely in the driver's seat of the unmarked van. He stared through the binoculars with intense paranoia at the chaotic front lawn covered in colorful balloons. "Intel says the perimeter is swarming. I count at least three hostile clowns and a very suspicious magician." Molly rolled her eyes, checking the digital timer on her watch while casually polishing the heavy-duty bolt cutters with a silk rag. "It’s a suburban birthday party, Bill, not a bank. Relax. Those clowns are just bored teenagers earning minimum wage." "I’m serious," Bill hissed, nervously tapping the steering wheel with his gloved fingers as he surveyed the neighborhood. "That pony near the fence looks unstable. One kick and the whole operation goes sideways." "That’s Sparkles. She loves carrots, not kicking thieves. Focus on the objective." "Stealing from toddlers? It feels low, Molly. Even for us." "They have unopened gaming consoles and limited edition action figures. It’s a goldmine. Now, stop whining and put on your fake mustache." Bill sighed, looking at the ridiculous prop on the dashboard before grabbing it with disdain. He prepared himself for the inevitable glitter explosion. "The itchy one? Fine. But if I get glitter on my tactical gear again, I’m walking home."