# The Birthday Heist Molly studied the invitation with the intensity of a jeweler examining a diamond. The glossy card featured cartoon balloons and promised "the most spectacular birthday celebration at Sunshine Garden Park this Saturday." "This is going to be the easiest job we've ever pulled," she announced. Bill looked up from his laptop, where he'd been scrolling through rental sites for clown costumes. "Easier than the museum?" "Way easier. These people are six-year-olds." "Good point," Bill admitted, scratching his chin. "Have you seen the gift list?" Molly flipped through the pages she'd printed from the party registry. "Forty-seven presents. Electronic toys, board games, a legitimate scooter, and—get this—a Nintendo Switch." Bill whistled low. "What's the security situation?" "That's the beautiful part. There is none. Just a bunch of parents standing around eating cupcakes while the birthday kid tears into gifts like a tiny gift-wrapping tornado." She tapped her finger on the paper. "The presents are stacked in that big pile right by the entrance to the pavilion." "Seems almost too easy," Bill said suspiciously. He'd been a professional thief for twelve years and understood that easy jobs usually came with complications. "What about the cake table?" "Directly behind the gift pile. We work that to our advantage." Molly began pacing, her mind already constructing the heist. "You go in as the face painter. Set up your little station right where you can see everything. When I give the signal, you start chaos." "What kind of chaos are we talking about?" "You accidentally knock over the punch bowl," she said. "Something massive. Something that requires everybody's attention." Bill nodded slowly. "While they're cleaning, you load the gifts into the van?" "Exactly. I'll be dressed as the balloon artist. Nobody suspects a balloon artist." Molly grabbed a piece of paper and sketched a rough map of the park. "I've timed the party schedule. We have a forty-five-minute window between present opening and the piñata." "What about the piñata situation? Won't that be a problem?" "By that time, we'll be halfway down the highway with seventy pounds of children's toys in the back of our vehicle." Bill leaned back in his chair and grinned. "You know, in all my years of grand theft, burglary, and elaborate schemes, I never thought I'd be planning a heist on a six-year-old's birthday party." "First time for everything," Molly said. "Besides, we're not actually stealing from the kid. We're stealing from their gifts, which were clearly meant to be appropriated by hardworking professionals such as ourselves." "That's some interesting moral gymnastics." "It's called making peace with the universe," she replied, beginning to organize their equipment. "Now, about that clown costume..."