Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXQF9BDQK6E7J7TQM7FF4TK

The neon glow of the *Dazzle & Delight Party Emporium* sign flickered like a dying firefly as Molly adjusted her oversized clown wig in the rearview mirror. Bill sat beside her, methodically peeling the wrapper off a stolen lollipop he’d swiped from the last job—a baptism, if anyone asked. “You sure this is the right move?” Bill sucked on the lollipop, the sticky sound making Molly’s eye twitch. “I mean, kids, Molly. *Kids.*” Molly shot him a look. “Kids are the easiest marks. They’re distracted by cake, they cry if you look at them wrong, and their parents are too busy Instagramming the ‘perfect moment’ to notice a couple of professionals doing their thing.” Bill turned the lollipop stick between his fingers. “Yeah, but last time we hit a kid’s place, that little demon with the glue stick nearly took my eyebrow off.” “That was a *craft fair*, Bill. Totally different energy.” Molly pulled a crumpled flyer from her pocket and smoothed it out. *“Little Timmy’s 6th Birthday Extravaganza—Pin the Tail on the Unicorn, Magical Pony Rides, and a Mountain of Presents!”* She grinned. “We’re talking high-end LEGO, Bill. Limited edition. The kind of stuff that resells for triple retail.” Bill squinted at the flyer. “Pony rides? You ever seen a pony up close? They’re judgmental. They *know* things.” Molly ignored him. “We go in as the entertainment. I’ll be *Sparkles the Clown*—” She gestured to her wig. “—and you’ll be *Bubbles the Balloon Artist*.” Bill held up a sad, deflated balloon animal he’d been fiddling with. “I can’t make balloon animals.” “You don’t have to. You just have to *look* like you can.” She tossed him a name tag that read *BUBBLES* in glittery letters. “Wear that and carry a pump. If anyone asks, you’re ‘between masterpieces.’” Bill sighed, sticking the tag to his shirt. “What’s the play once we’re inside?” Molly ticked points off on her fingers. “Phase one: I distract the parents with a ‘complimentary’ face-painting station. You scope the present table. Phase two: We swap the good stuff with the decoy gifts we brought—” She patted a duffel bag full of suspiciously light, rewrapped boxes. “—then we ‘accidentally’ knock over the cake. Chaos ensues. Phase three: We vanish into the night, richer and slightly more traumatized.” Bill chewed his lollipop thoughtfully. “What if the cake’s already been cut?” Molly blinked. “Then we knock over *Timmy*.” A beat. Bill nodded. “Fair.” Molly checked her watch. “We’ve got twenty minutes till showtime. Remember—no eye contact with the kids. They sense fear.” Bill adjusted his name tag. “What if one of them asks for a balloon sword?” “Tell them you’re *allergic to latex*.” “What if they ask why I’m sweating?” Molly grabbed his face and smeared his cheeks with greasepaint. “Now you’re *Bubbles the Overly Invested Balloon Artist*.” Bill stared at his reflection in the side mirror. “I look like a serial killer.” Molly clapped him on the back. “Perfect. Let’s go ruin a childhood.”