Bill peered through binoculars at a rainbow-colored bouncy castle sagging across the street. Tiny humans screamed inside. Beside him, Molly unfolded a hand-drawn blueprint, her expression grim. She viciously circled the 'prize piñata' with a red pen. He pouted, gesturing towards a mountain of presents, his eyes fixated on a giant box wrapped in sparkling dinosaur paper. Molly rubbed her temples. Bill pulled a shiny gold kazoo from his jacket pocket, looking immensely proud as he tooted a mournful, off-key note. The heist was already a disaster. “So, the piñata is the diversion?” Bill whispered. “I call whacking it.” “You’re not whacking anything,” she hissed. “You’re on balloon duty. A loud pop at precisely 3:04 PM draws the parents. I’ll grab the loot.” “But what about the big one? With the enormous bow?” “That’s the primary target, you idiot,” Molly snapped, “the ‘Giga-Gorilla.’ Now, focus. Do you have the kazoo?” “For the signal,” he whispered defensively, holding it up. “It’s more subtle than a balloon.”