Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5M46QE2C7E22K0ACZM6KN

The back room of the ‘Happy Bean’ coffee shop smelled of stale grounds and desperation. Molly spread a hand-drawn map across the sticky table, anchoring one corner with a half-empty latte. Bill stared, his expression a mixture of disbelief and awe. “A children’s birthday party,” he said, flatly. “You dragged me here for a six-year-old’s birthday party.” “Not for the cake, Bill. For the loot.” Molly tapped the map with a chewed pencil. “The Vanderbilts. Their little angel, Percival, is turning seven. The gifts will be high-end. Educational robots, miniature stock portfolios, solid gold rattles—the works.” Bill rubbed his temples. “So we’re gonna what? Sneak past a bunch of sugared-up kids and a clown?” “Precisely. But with precision.” She pointed to a square labeled ‘PONY.’ “The main event is a pony ride in the backyard at 3:15 PM. Chaos ensues. All adults and children will be distracted. That’s our window.” “Our window to do what? Walk in the front door with a ‘Happy Birthday’ balloon and a sack?” “Basically, yes.” Molly smiled. “We pose as entertainers. You’ll be ‘Billy the Bumbling Balloon Artist.’ I’ll be ‘Molly the Magician’s Assistant,’ with a very large trick box for my ‘props.’ We arrive late, during the pony frenzy, slip inside to the gift table, fill the box, and exit stage left.” Bill blinked slowly. “A balloon artist. What if someone asks for a poodle? I can only make a snake. A sad, limp snake.” “Then make sad, limp snakes! The point is the disguise. The box is lined with sound-proofing foam. No jingle-jangle from the stolen blocks and designer teddy bears.” “What about the actual magician? Won’t he be suspicious of an assistant he didn’t hire?” “I told him I was sent by the agency. He was too busy practicing his dove vanishing act to care. His name is Marvin. He has a nervous tic. He’ll be fine.” Bill leaned back, crossing his arms. “And the extraction? We just waltz out with a box full of presents?” “We complain about a faulty smoke machine creating a haze, say we need air. We load the box into the van, which will be parked in the ‘Catering’ spot I’ve already forged a permit for.” “This is the most undignified job we’ve ever taken.” “It’s low security, high reward. No lasers, no guards with attack dogs. Just juice boxes and emotional parents.” Molly’s eyes gleamed. “Think of it, Bill. One hour’s work for a haul of untouched, resellable luxury toys. The fence at the downtown market is already salivating.” Bill sighed, staring at the map’s crude drawing of a bounce house. “Fine. But if I have to twist a balloon sword for some snot-nosed tycoon-in-training, I’m keeping the sword. As a hazard bonus.” “Deal.” Molly rolled up the map. “Now, let’s go over your balloon repertoire. And for heaven’s sake, try to look like you enjoy children.” “I enjoy them from a distance. A long distance. Like, from another city.” “Just remember,” Molly said, standing up. “Smile, be clumsy with the balloons, and no one will suspect you’re a criminal mastermind.” “Mastermind? I’m planning to steal a toy rocket from a toddler. My ancestors are weeping.” “They’re weeping tears of joy, Bill. Tears of joy.”