Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY9W4F867VNH4VNFYXJJEH2

The chipped Formica of the diner booth felt cold under Molly’s elbows. She traced the floral pattern with a sugar packet, avoiding Bill’s increasingly frantic gaze. “Okay, so let me get this straight,” Bill said, his voice a strained whisper despite the lunchtime bustle around them. “We’re… we’re robbing a birthday party.” Molly finally looked up, a small, entirely unapologetic smile playing on her lips. “Technically, Bill, we’re *reallocating* resources. Think of it as a festive redistribution of wealth.” “It's presents, Molly! For kids! Little Timmy's seventh birthday!” “Little Timmy has parents with disposable income, Bill. And frankly, a pirate-themed party is asking for trouble. Too many potential trip hazards for a sophisticated operation like ours.” Bill groaned, running a hand through his thinning hair. “Sophisticated? We’re going in dressed as… clowns.” “Strategic camouflage! Everyone expects clowns at a kid’s party. No one suspects a clown of grand larceny.” Molly tapped the sugar packet against the table. “Plus, I found these amazing oversized shoes. Seriously, they’re fabulous.” “Fabulous doesn't help me explain to the judge why I was apprehended with a bouncy castle in my van.” “Details, details. Look, the intel is solid. Mrs. Henderson, Timmy’s mother, is a notorious over-giver. The guest list is exclusively the children of the town’s one-percenters. We’re talking designer toys, gaming consoles, potentially even a miniature pony.” “A pony? You didn’t mention a pony!” Bill’s eyes widened. “A potential asset. Assess on entry. Now, the plan. I create a distraction – a rogue balloon animal, perhaps a truly magnificent bubble sculpture. You sweep the gift table, efficient and discreet. We meet back at the van, and we’re golden.” “And what if Timmy or one of his little rich friends catches us?” “Improvise. You’re good at improv. Remember the art gallery job?” Bill shuddered. “Let’s not speak of the interpretive dance.” “It bought us ten minutes, Bill! Ten glorious minutes! This is similar – controlled chaos. Think of it as performance art with a financial incentive.” “I think of it as a terrible idea.” “Oh, come on, Bill. When was the last time you felt genuinely *alive*? When did you last experience the thrill of the… gift acquisition?” “I bought myself a new wrench last week and I was pretty thrilled.” Molly sighed. “Look, we need this, Bill. The landlord’s breathing down my neck, and your pigeon racing habit isn’t exactly bringing in the big bucks.” “They’re pedigree pigeons, Molly! And Pip is a contender for the regional championships!” “Pip can wait. Timmy’s presents can’t. Do we have a deal?” Bill stared at his coffee, stirring it with a despondent expression. “Do the clown shoes light up?” Molly grinned. “Naturally.”