Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXQ83VM5448CN4Q0PTF28BT

The back room of the Tipsy Turtle Pub smelled like stale beer and regret, which was fitting, since that’s exactly what Molly and Bill were serving up tonight. Molly leaned against the sticky table, twirling a lock of her fire-engine-red hair around one finger while Bill squinted at a crumpled flyer like it held the secrets of the universe. “A *children’s party*?” Bill said, his voice cracking like a teenager’s. “Molls, we’re thieves, not monsters.” Molly snatched the flyer from his hands and smoothed it out. “Oh, relax. It’s not like we’re stealing from orphans. This is *Little Timmy Whitmore’s* sixth birthday. His dad’s a hedge fund guy. Trust me, the kid won’t even notice the presents are gone.” Bill rubbed his temples. “I don’t know. Kids *notice* things. They’ve got, like, *spidey-senses* or something.” “Spidey-senses?” Molly snorted. “Bill, we’re not robbing a bank. We’re swiping a bunch of overpriced plastic crap wrapped in shiny paper. The hardest part will be not laughing when some toddler starts crying because we took his *Frozen* Elsa doll.” Bill groaned. “I can already see the headlines: *‘Notorious Thieves Brought to Justice by a Five-Year-Old with a Whistle.’*” “Please. We’ll be in and out before the piñata even gets cracked. Besides, I’ve got a plan.” Molly leaned in, her grin sharp enough to cut glass. “We go in as *party entertainers*.” Bill blinked. “You mean like… clowns?” “No, you idiot. *Magicians.*” She pulled a deck of cards from her pocket and fanned them out with a flourish. “I’ve been practicing.” Bill stared at the cards like they might bite him. “You can’t even shuffle without dropping half the deck.” “Details.” Molly waved a hand. “The point is, we show up, do a few tricks, distract the parents, and while everyone’s watching the kid blow out the candles, we scoop up the loot. Easy.” Bill scratched his chin. “And what if someone *does* notice the presents are gone?” “Then we say it was part of the act. *‘Ta-da! The gifts have vanished!’*” She mimed pulling a rabbit out of a hat. “Parents eat that stuff up. They’ll think it’s *hilarious.*” Bill sighed, long and dramatic. “I don’t know, Molls. This feels… wrong.” Molly rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. When have we ever let *morality* get in the way of a good score?” “That time with the nun’s retirement fund?” “Okay, *fine*, bad example. But this is different! We’re not stealing from *nuns.* We’re stealing from *rich people.* It’s practically a public service.” Bill pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re impossible.” “And yet, you keep coming back.” Molly grinned and slapped the table. “So, are we doing this or not?” Bill hesitated, then sighed. “Fine. But if we get arrested, I’m telling the cops you made me do it.” Molly clapped her hands. “That’s the spirit! Now, first order of business—we need *costumes.*” She pulled out her phone and started scrolling. “I’m thinking top hats, capes, maybe some sequins…” Bill groaned. “I’d rather go to prison.”