Run: 2026-02-24-01KJ8VRGY0NWSN06SC6SXXY0K7

Molly spread the hand-drawn schematic across the rickety table. “This is the target. Seven-year-old Timmy Henderson’s living room. Party starts at two. The presents will be stacked here, by the fireplace.” Bill peered at the crayon diagram. “You used my good glitter pen.” “Focus, Bill. The primary obstacle is the mother, Karen. She’s a former PTA treasurer with eyes like a hawk. Code name: ‘The Librarian.’ Secondary obstacles are twelve sugar-fueled minors. They’re unpredictable.” “So we go in quiet. Black suits, balaclavas.” “We’re going as clowns, Bill.” Bill’s coffee cup halted midway to his lips. “Clowns.” “It’s a child’s birthday party. We need to blend. You’ll be ‘Bongo.’ I’ll be ‘Sparkles.’ We infiltrate during the peak chaos of the piñata assault.” “I don’t like clowns. And piñatas are structurally unsound.” “Noted. Now, the haul.” Molly flipped to a second sheet, a detailed inventory. “Intel suggests a ‘Lego Millennium Falcon,’ several ‘L.O.L. Surprise’ dolls, a junior chemistry set—which has decent resale—and an undisclosed number of gift cards.” “The chemistry set’s volatile. Could be used as a distraction.” “Thinking ahead. I like it. Extraction is via the side gate. The getaway vehicle is parked two blocks over.” “What is it?” “A brightly colored ice cream truck. It’s perfect camouflage. We ditch the clown gear in the back, drive away slowly. No one runs from a crime scene in an ice cream truck.” Bill rubbed his temples. “The weight distribution. All those presents… we’ll need a bag man.” “Bag *person*. And yes. That’s you. You’ll have an oversized, festive ‘party bag’ for ‘game prizes.’ We load the loot and walk out smiling.” “What about the dog?” Molly blinked. “What dog?” “The Hendersons have a dog. A small, yappy one. Bites ankles. Saw it during reconnaissance. You marked it ‘fluffy obstacle’ on the napkin.” “Right. The fluffy obstacle.” Molly tapped the schematic. “We neutralize it with a peace offering.” “A treat?” “A whole steak. Grade-A. In my clown pocket.” “That’s a good use of funds.” Bill leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “So to recap: we dress as clowns, bribe a terrier with prime beef, steal toys from a seven-year-old during a sugar riot, and escape in an ice cream truck.” “You make it sound ridiculous.” “It *is* ridiculous, Moll. We stole the Crown Jewels of Sweden.” “And we got caught. This is lower stakes. Cleaner.” “The Crown Jewels didn’t have a piñata.” Bill sighed, a long, weary sound. “What’s my clown name again?” “Bongo.” “Right. Do I have to do the balloon animal thing?” “Only if necessary. Stick to the plan. Sparkles and Bongo. In and out. Ten minutes.” “And if someone asks for a balloon giraffe?” Molly folded the plans with a crisp finality. “Then you make them the best damn balloon giraffe of your life. It’s called professionalism, Bill.” Bill stared at his empty coffee cup, then at the glittering schematic. "I just have one more question." "Shoot." "The ice cream truck. Does it have that music? The creepy little tune?" Molly's smile was all teeth. "It's our theme music, Bill. Every great heist needs a soundtrack. We'll be halfway to the fence before they even stop humming it."