Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ95BASCPDF0MQHKR5TRTCQ2

The flickering fluorescent light of the Corner Muffin cast a sickly glow on Bill’s conspiratorial grin. Molly pushed her lukewarm coffee aside, the paper cup leaving a damp ring on the sticky table. “Are you out of your mind, Bill?” she asked, her voice a low, exasperated rumble. “A children’s birthday party? Seriously?” Bill leaned forward, his eyes gleaming like a magpie’s. “Molly, think of the untapped market! Unsuspecting, innocent… presents! Nobody expects a professional heist crew at ‘Princess Penelope’s Royal Unicorn Jamboree.’” “Because it’s a kids’ party, Bill. It’s not Fort Knox, but it’s also not exactly morally sound to pilfer from preschoolers.” “Morally sound? We’re thieves, Molly. We stopped caring about ‘morally sound’ when we almost hot-wired that ice cream truck.” “That was a misunderstanding with the owner, who also happened to be a former bouncer. Besides, this is going to be plastic. Probably a lot of slime and cheap plastic whistles.” Molly rubbed her temples. “Ah, but the sheer volume!” Bill countered, gesturing wildly. “And the element of surprise! Imagine, a bouncing castle, a terrible magician, and then *poof* – all the presents gone.” “You say ‘poof,’ I say ‘a tantrum-throwing mob of six-year-olds with sticky fingers and a frighteningly accurate aim with party poppers.’” “We’ll be ninjas! Silent, deadly, glitter-covered, adorable-present-snatching ninjas!” Molly clamped her eyes shut for a moment. “Please, for the love of all that is quiet, stop saying ‘adorable-present-snatching.’ What’s the target, precisely?” “Little Timmy Wilkinson’s 7th birthday bash. At the ‘Rainbow Sparkle Play Centre’ on Elm Street. Theme: Dinosaurs and Princesses. A bold, modern fusion, truly.” “Dinosaurs and Princesses. Great. What’s the security like?” “A bored teenager dressed as a life-size T-Rex, and Timmy’s grandma, who reportedly knits a mean sweater but has a wicked hook for trespassers. My intel suggests her specialty is 'ne'er-do-wells who try to steal Timmy’s joy.'” “You have intel on Grandma’s knitting capabilities?” Molly deadpanned. “It’s all part of the due diligence, Molly! We need to know our adversaries. And your master plan to bypass Grandma’s knitting needles and the T-Rex teenager?” “Distraction. I’ve been perfecting a new persona: 'Captain Confetti, the Party Pooper Trouper!'” Molly stared, aghast. “You’re going to *be* a clown?” “Not *a* clown. *The* clown. With a highly effective, non-lethal confetti cannon. While all eyes are on Captain Confetti’s dazzling display, you, my dear Molly, slip in, grab the loot, and we’re out before anyone notices. Like a sugary, glittery tornado.” “A sugary, glittery tornado that leaves behind crying toddlers and angry parents. What about the parents? They’ll be watching.” “That’s where the parents’ ‘wine-and- artisanal-cheese station’ comes into play. They’ll be… thoroughly distracted by sophisticated conversation and crackers. I surveyed the refreshment table.” “You surveyed the refreshment table? Are you stealing the artisanal crackers too?” she sighed. “Only if they’re particularly good. But primarily, it’s a diversion. While they’re discussing organic rosé, we’re making our move.” Bill’s voice dropped to a stage whisper. “And the presents? A standard-issue duffel bag. We’ll be quick. In, out. Minimum fuss. Imagine, Molly. A duffel bag full of plastic robots, glitter glue, probably some sort of squishy slug toy… the spoils of war!” “Spoils of war. Right. And if we get caught by the T-Rex?” “I’ve got a contingency: emergency dog treats. T-Rexes love dog treats, right? It’s elementary.” Molly closed her eyes again. “Bill, T-Rexes are dinosaurs. They’re extinct. The teenager in the suit probably just wants a coffee.” “Details, details! The point is, it’s foolproof. High reward, low risk, maximum comedic value for our future memoirs.” “Your future memoirs sound like trouble. Let's just focus on getting through this without getting pelted by mini-cupcakes.” “Mini-cupcakes! Added bonus! We can snag a few on the way out. For our ‘trouper’ reward.”