Run: 2026-03-12-01KKHZ74ED22FAC64RETWMXT59

Molly adjusted her fake mustache in the rearview mirror while Bill tapped the steering wheel like it owed him money. “This is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had, and I’ve known you since the Great Kitten Heist of ’09.” “Relax,” Molly said, popping a cheese puff into her mouth. “It’s a six-year-old’s birthday party at the community center. Cake, balloons, chaos. We’ll be in and out before the piñata hits the floor.” Bill stared at her. “We’re robbing toddlers, Mol. Toddlers. Their moral compass is still in the box with the batteries.” “Exactly. They won’t suspect a thing. We’re going as the entertainment. I’m the magician, you’re my bumbling assistant. Classic misdirection. While they’re watching me pull a rabbit out of a hat, you’re stuffing goody bags into your pants.” “My pants have limited real estate,” Bill grumbled. “And I’m not sure I want that kind of reputation in the neighborhood. ‘Hey, that’s the guy who shoved Frozen-themed party favors down his trousers.’” Molly waved a hand. “We wear the inflatable T-Rex costumes. Nobody looks at your crotch when you’ve got a giant rubber tail. Trust me, I’ve done the math.” “You did the math on dinosaur crotch visibility?” “Page seventeen of the plan, Bill. Keep up. We hit the gift table at 3:15, right after they sing Happy Birthday. The kids will be in a sugar frenzy. We grab the big boxes first—those big shiny ones always have the good stuff. Then we work our way to the envelopes. Cash and gift cards, baby.” Bill pinched the bridge of his nose. “What if one of them cries? I can’t handle it when they cry. That little lip quiver thing destroys me.” “Then you do the thing with the balloon animals. I’ve seen you make a poodle. Kids love poodles. You make the poodle, I make the getaway. Simple.” “Simple,” he echoed, clearly not believing the word. “We’re going to hell for this. There’s a special level for people who steal Shopkins from six-year-olds.” Molly shrugged. “We’ll send them an anonymous gift basket later. Full of slightly less stolen toys. Balance the karma scales.” Bill was quiet for a moment, then muttered, “I want the talking dinosaur. The one that says ‘rawr means I love you.’ I’ve earned that.” “You can have the dinosaur if you stop whining. And if we get caught, we’re cousins from out of town. My name is Brenda, you’re Kevin, and we thought this was a costume party.” “Brenda and Kevin sound like they sell essential oils at flea markets.” “Perfect. No one will suspect Brenda and Kevin of felony present theft.” Bill finally smiled, small and reluctant. “Fine. But if we pull this off, we’re never speaking of it again.” “Deal,” Molly said, starting the car. “Now help me practice my magic voice. Abracadabra, you little gremlins, hand over the presents.” Bill groaned. “We’re going to jail.” “Only if we’re bad at it.”