Run: 2026-03-18-01KM09NPV01H352X1ZVHF156T5

“Molly, check the frosting budget on the door—if it’s too thick, we’ll trigger the alarm,” Bill whispered. “It’s a children’s party, Bill. The only thing thick is their sugar tolerance.” “Don’t underestimate sugar. Sugar makes people inventive,” Molly said, adjusting her tiny headlamp. “Inventive like tap-dancing guards?” “Inventive like screaming ‘OH NO, THE CAKE!’ and forgetting we exist.” Bill grinned. “Okay, Plan A: we melt into the crowd.” “We don’t melt,” Molly corrected. “We blend. Like… stealth pudding.” “Pudding doesn’t have a felony license.” “Neither do you, yet here we are.” Bill held up a roll of gift wrap. “I brought replacements. If we swap, we don’t cause trauma.” “Trauma is the point,” Molly said, then sighed. “Fine, light trauma. Minimal tears. Mostly cash-out.” Bill glanced at the yard. “The presents are right behind the mascot bounce house.” “Perfect,” Molly said. “Bouncy equals distraction. Kids will stare at it like it’s the moon.” “And parents will take photos instead of looking for criminals.” “Yes. Say it louder so the universe agrees.” “Fine. Loud universe.” Molly whispered, “When the clock hits three, you go for the big pile.” “And you?” “I handle the smaller stuff.” “Like what, toothbrushes?” “No, Bill—like the ‘ages 3–5’ toys. Those are the real prizes.” “Because they’re cute?” “Because parents hide money in the batteries.” Bill blinked. “That’s… disturbingly smart.” “Now stop talking and start stealing.” “Aye aye, professional stealth pudding.”