Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5DBFS787G7BZA15WXR7PX

The warehouse was drafty, the kind of place where even the rats wore tiny sweaters. Molly tapped her foot against a crate labeled *Fragile: Probably Just More Crates Inside*, while Bill squinted at a napkin covered in scribbles that may or may not have been a map. "You're telling me," Molly said, "that the biggest score of our careers is a six-year-old's birthday party?" Bill folded the napkin carefully, then unfolded it when he realized it was upside down. "Not just any party, Moll. *Timmy Thompson’s* party. Kid’s dad owns half the city. You think those presents are just finger paints and teddy bears? We’re talking solid gold rattles, diamond-encrusted sippy cups—" "—and a security detail that probably includes ex-Navy SEALs in clown costumes," Molly finished. She rubbed her temples. "Bill, we’ve stolen from banks, museums, even that one guy’s collection of rare toenail clippings—" "Which was a *mistake*," Bill interjected. "—but this? This is low." Bill gasped, clutching his chest. "Low? Molly, we’re *modern-day Robin Hoods*." "Robin Hood stole from the rich to give to the poor. We’re stealing from a *kindergartener* to give to ourselves." "Semantics." Bill waved a hand. "Besides, it’s not like Timmy’s gonna remember. Kids that age think a cardboard box is the height of luxury. We’re doing him a *favor*. Teaching him early that life’s unfair." Molly sighed. "Fine. What’s the plan?" Bill grinned and unfurled the napkin with a flourish. "We go in disguised as the entertainment." "Please don’t say clowns." "Better." He paused. "*Magicians*." Molly stared. "You can’t even shuffle a deck without dropping half the cards." "Details! All we need is a little misdirection. You’ll be the lovely assistant—" "I’m not wearing sequins." "—and I’ll do the classic ‘saw the kid in half’ bit—" "Absolutely not." "—*symbolically*, Moll. Then, while the parents are busy pretending to be amazed, we grab the gifts and vanish!" He mimicked an explosion with his hands. Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. "And how do we get out?" Bill blinked. "Hadn’t thought that far." "Of course not." She grabbed the napkin and turned it right-side up. "Here’s the *real* plan. We pose as caterers. Load the presents into a cake box. Walk out like we’re just taking the trash." Bill frowned. "Where’s the pizzazz?" "Pizzazz gets you caught. Stealth gets you paid." He sighed. "Fine. But I’m still bringing the magic wand." Molly rolled her eyes. "Just don’t wave it near the guard dogs." Bill paused. "There are guard dogs?" Molly smiled sweetly. "Life’s unfair, Bill."