Run: 2026-03-11-01KKFEC2NVX7H2BGJ6ZEBHRA12

Molly spread the blueprints across the café table, her coffee untouched, her eyes wild with the kind of focus that only comes from someone who has watched too many caper films on a Sunday afternoon. Bill sat across from her picking at a scone, leaving crumbs like breadcrumbs in reverse, leading from his plate to his shirt to his chin. "We're going in at two," Molly whispered, though they were the only two people in the café besides an elderly woman feeding biscuits to a cat under her chair. "The party starts at two," Bill said. "We'd be walking in with the guests." "Exactly." Bill looked at her. Molly looked at him. The cat looked at both of them with evident disappointment. "Okay," Bill said slowly, "walk me through it. Step by step." "Step one. We arrive at 1:45. We are dressed as clowns." "Clowns." "Clowns, Bill. It's a children's party. Nobody questions a clown." "I question a clown. On principle. Regularly." "Step two," Molly continued, steamrolling past his objection with the confidence of a woman who had never once been deterred by common sense. "We enter the premises carrying seventeen helium balloons. This creates visual obstruction." "Visual obstruction." "The balloons block the sightlines of any parent monitoring the gift table. I've studied the layout. The table is positioned between the bouncy castle and the refreshment station. Parents cluster near the food. Children cluster near the bouncy castle. The gifts sit unattended in a no-man's-land of frosting and screaming." "Step three?" Bill asked, and Molly could tell he was starting to enjoy himself despite his best efforts. "Step three. You distract the clown." "We ARE the clowns." "You distract the OTHER clown. The hired one. You challenge him to balloon animals. A duel." "A balloon animal duel." "The winner gets to make the special announcement cake, which doesn't exist, but he doesn't know that, and by the time he figures it out, I'll have loaded every last present into the van." Bill leaned back. "You know what I love about this plan, Molly?" "What?" "Absolutely nothing. It's insane. It's built on the assumption that no parent has ever seen a clown before. It relies on a balloon animal duel as a tactical diversion. The word 'van' has just appeared out of nowhere like a magician's rabbit." "Is that a yes?" "That is a yes, but I want it on record that I have objections." "Noted and ignored. We need codenames." "We absolutely do not need codenames. There are two of us in a café." "Fine. You're Buttercream. I'm Sprinkles." "Please don't tell anyone those names." "Sprinkles is already on the group text." Bill put his face in his hands. Through his fingers, barely audible, he said, "What time are we meeting tomorrow?" "Twelve thirty. Wear comfortable shoes." "We're going to a children's party in clown makeup with seventeen helium balloons to steal a hamster and a wooden train set, and you want me in comfortable shoes?" "Always be professional, Buttercream." Bill closed his notebook. The cat yawned. Somewhere in the distance, a birthday child blew out candles and made a wish that, oddly enough, would not come true.