Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXQFK24Z1DZ2KJDNCK6XJ2W

The fluorescent lights of the diner buzzed like a swarm of angry bees, casting a sickly glow over the chipped Formica table where Molly and Bill sat. A half-eaten plate of fries congealed between them, forgotten in favor of the blueprint spread across the table. Molly tapped a manicured nail against the paper, her lips pursed in concentration. "You’re telling me we’re hitting a *kids’ party*?" Bill said, scratching his stubble. "I’ve robbed banks, I’ve lifted jewels, but this feels… wrong." Molly rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. You once stole a priest’s collection plate mid-sermon. This is practically charity work." "Yeah, but the priest *expected* it. These are *children*, Mol. They cry when you take their stuff." She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Exactly. Who’s gonna suspect a couple of thieves at a six-year-old’s birthday bash? The cops? They’ll be too busy laughing at the idea to actually show up." Bill groaned, rubbing his temples. "I can already see the headlines: *‘Notorious Thieves Nabbed After Heist Gone Wrong—Culprits Found Sobbing in Ball Pit.’*" Molly snatched a fry and pointed it at him. "Focus. The target is the *presents*. Not the kids. We grab the loot, we bounce, no one gets hurt." "Except the birthday girl," Bill muttered. "She’s gonna be *devastated*." "She’ll get over it. Kids are resilient. Besides, her parents will just buy her new stuff. It’s not like we’re taking her *pony*." Bill sighed, slumping back in the booth. "Fine. But if I get glitter on me, I’m holding you personally responsible." Molly grinned, folding the blueprint with a flourish. "Deal. Now, here’s the plan—" A waitress shuffled over, refilling their coffees with the enthusiasm of someone who’d rather be anywhere else. "Y’all need anything else?" Molly beamed up at her. "Just the check, thanks. We’ve got a *very* important engagement." The waitress eyed them suspiciously. "You two don’t look like the PTA type." Bill choked on his coffee. Molly patted his back, still smiling. "Oh, we’re not. We’re the *entertainment*." The waitress’s eyebrows shot up. "You’re clowns?" Molly’s smile didn’t waver. "The *best* kind." Bill coughed again, this time into his napkin. The waitress shrugged and walked away, muttering something about "weirdos." Molly turned back to Bill, all business. "Alright, phase one: we get in as party staff. I’ll handle the cake, you distract the parents." Bill groaned. "How am I supposed to distract them?" She grinned. "Tell them you’re a magician. Parents *love* magicians." "I don’t know any magic tricks!" Molly waved a hand. "Neither do they. Just pull a quarter out of someone’s ear and call it a day." Bill rubbed his face. "This is a disaster waiting to happen." Molly clapped her hands together. "Exactly! That’s why it’ll work. Now, let’s go shopping. We need costumes." Bill stared at her. "Costumes?" "Of course. You can’t rob a kids’ party in a ski mask. That’s *rude*." He sighed, pushing his coffee away. "I hate my life." Molly stood, tossing a twenty onto the table. "No, you don’t. You love the thrill. Admit it." Bill stood slowly, following her toward the door. "I love the thrill of *not* getting arrested. This is a new low." Molly winked. "That’s what makes it fun."