Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5KE4FTH8FDXEVGCRF9V50

Molly spread the wrinkled map across the hood of their dented sedan, using a half-eaten doughnut to weight down one corner. Bill squinted at the crayon-scribbled layout, his forehead creased. “This is the target?” he asked, tapping a finger on a drawing of a smiling sun. “It looks like a kindergarten art project.” “It’s a schematic, Bill. Drawn by my inside source. Timmy, the birthday boy’s older brother. He’s nine and easily bribed with gum.” Molly pointed a gloved finger. “Here’s the backyard. The party starts at two. Pinata at three-thirty. That’s our window.” “Our window to steal presents from a six-year-old’s birthday?” “The haul is legendary. Tyler’s parents are loaded. We’re talking the latest gaming consoles, premium building sets, probably a junior drone with a camera.” Bill rubbed his chin. “So we just walk in and take them?” “No, you imbecile. We employ misdirection.” Molly’s eyes gleamed. “You’ll dress as the party clown. ‘Binky the Birthday Buddy.’ I’ve rented the suit. It’s polyester and smells of despair.” “A clown? I hate clowns. And children. They’re sticky.” “Precisely. While you’re terrifying the toddlers with your balloon animals, I’ll be the cheerful aunt from out of town. I’ll blend, compliment the cake, and systematically fill my oversized handbag with gifts.” Bill stared at the map. “What about the pinata? It’s a core logistical hurdle.” “We use it to our advantage. The moment that candy rains down, chaos ensues. That’s when I make my move. You’ll create a secondary distraction. Perhaps a ‘funny’ fall.” “I’m not taking a pratfall in a clown suit.” “It’s for the art of the heist, Bill! This is a precision operation.” “It’s a backyard full of juice boxes. What’s our escape route?” Molly flipped the map over. “Through the side gate, into the alley. The get-away car will be here.” She paused. “Well, this car. But we’ll have the back seat cleared.” Bill sighed. “I still think we’re overcomplicating this. Why not just case the house after the party?” “Because after the party, the presents are inside the house. This way, they’re all neatly stacked on a gift table in the open. It’s elegant. It’s bold. It’s practically victimless.” “We’re stealing from a child named Tyler.” “Who will receive duplicates of everything from his grandparents. We’re doing the family a storage service.” Molly folded the map with finality. “So? Are you in? Or do I need to find a new partner with a better sense of adventure and a higher tolerance for face paint?” Bill looked from the doughnut to the crayon sun. He imagined the feel of the clown wig. “Do I have to do the balloon animals?” “Non-negotiable. It’s in the plan.” “Fine. But if a kid cries on me, I’m aborting.” “Noted.” Molly pulled a small notebook from her pocket. “Contingencies. One: Dog. The neighbors have a terrier named Mr. Wiggles. He’s harmless but yappy. Carry these.” She handed Bill a bag of dog treats. “Dog treats? For a heist?” “Every variable controlled, Bill. Two: Weather. Forecast says sunny, but if it rains, the gift table moves under the gazebo. That actually improves sightlines for us. Three: The cake. If it’s a multi-tiered masterpiece, the parents will be distracted by photos. That’s a bonus.” Bill shook his head. “You’ve really thought of everything.” “I’m a professional. Unlike some people who thought ‘The Pink Panther’ was a documentary.” “It had educational elements!” Molly ignored him. “Remember, once I give the signal—scratching my nose—you start the chicken dance. That’s the diversion for my final sweep.” “The chicken dance? In a clown suit? Molly, there are limits.” “To your dignity? We passed that miles ago. Now, let’s go over the loot distribution. I get sixty percent for planning and renting the clown suit.” “Forty percent for actually wearing the clown suit!” “Fifty-five forty-five, and I won’t make you wear the red nose.” Bill grumbled. “Deal.” Molly smiled. “Excellent. Now, let’s rehearse your laugh. It should be jovial, not menacing. Try again.” Bill forced a chuckle that sounded like a gear grinding. Molly winced. “We’ll work on it. And for heaven’s sake, try to look less like a man planning a felony and more like a friend of balloons.” “I feel a profound moral emptiness.” “That’s the spirit. Now, the first balloon animal is a poodle. Practice while I surveil the nap schedule.”