Run: 2026-03-12-01KKHYYN1NW7K9SZA736HQT5AP

Molly crouched behind the rhododendron bush, peering through the slats of the garden fence at the bouncy castle where twenty sugar-high six-year-olds screamed like tiny barbarians. “This is the worst idea you’ve ever had, Bill, and you once suggested we rob a police station with a fruit basket.” Bill adjusted his comically oversized clown wig, which kept sliding over one eye. “It’s brilliant. Kids don’t even know how to guard presents. They’re distracted by clowns and cake. We’ll be in and out before the ice cream melts. Besides, you said you wanted something low-risk after the museum fiasco.” “Low-risk? We’re about to traumatize thirty children on a Saturday afternoon. Their tiny therapy bills alone will bankrupt us.” Molly tugged at the neck of her itchy princess dress. The tiara kept stabbing her scalp like a vindictive fork. Bill grinned, revealing a gold tooth that somehow made him look even less trustworthy. “Think of it as redistribution of wealth. Those presents are just sitting there, Molly. Wrapped in shiny paper like little capitalist traps. We’re basically modern-day Robin Hoods, except with better outfits and less medieval justice.” “Robin Hood didn’t wear a purple tutu,” she muttered, adjusting the ridiculous layers of tulle around her hips. “And he certainly didn’t have to explain to a birthday boy why his new Lego set mysteriously vanished.” “Details.” Bill checked his plastic pocket watch, which had a smiling dinosaur on it. “Look, we wait for the magic show. When that terrible magician pulls the rabbit out of the hat, every kid will be staring. That’s our window. You create a diversion by pretending to be the hired entertainer’s assistant, I slip round the back and bag the presents. Simple.” Molly stared at him. “You want me to assist a children’s magician? Bill, I once punched a mime for crowding me. I’m not exactly known for my rapport with small people.” “You’ll be fine. Just smile and wave. Kids love princesses. Especially princesses who look like they’re plotting murder.” He patted her shoulder encouragingly. “Besides, I’ve got the van parked three streets over with ‘Happy Birthday Timmy’ written on the side in washable paint. We’ll blend right in.” She sighed, rubbing her temples. “If we get caught, I’m telling them you kidnapped me and forced me into this dress at gunpoint.” “Fair enough.” Bill peeked through the fence again as a fresh wave of shrieking laughter erupted. “There’s the cake coming out. Ten minutes until sugar coma. You ready, partner?” Molly looked down at her sparkling plastic shoes, then at the pile of brightly wrapped boxes visible through the patio doors. “I hate you so much right now. Let’s go steal some childhood dreams.” Bill offered her a high-five. “For the children.” She slapped his hand away. “For the cash value on eBay, you absolute clown.” They slipped through the garden gate just as the birthday song began, two thieves in ridiculous costumes moving toward their most humiliating score yet.