Run: 2026-03-25-01KMJ8FB9SE2W8AE2MEW48R2WC

“Molly, this is the dumbest plan you’ve ever had. And last week, you tried to rob a mime convention.” “It’s not dumb, Bill. It’s inspired. Children’s birthday parties are *swimming* in loot. Unattended coats, distracted parents, mountains of wrapped presents—most of them probably full of cash or gift cards. Plus, the security’s a goldfish with a pacifier.” “A goldfish would be smarter than the average six-year-old. But still—what if someone *notices* us? We can’t exactly blend in. I didn’t bring my pogo stick.” “You don’t need a pogo stick. You need a mask. Or, better yet, a name tag that says ‘Uncle Steve.’” “You want me to be Uncle Steve?” “Exactly. I’ll be Aunt Linda. I’ve already practiced my ‘warm but mildly concerned’ expression. Like I just smelled something off at the veggie tray.” “I refuse to pretend I’m related to a family whose idea of entertainment is a guy in a chicken suit.” “He’s a professional, Bill. That’s a *paid chicken*. And he’s our distraction. We go in during the piñata. Chaos, screaming, flying candy—perfect cover.” “You’re assuming the piñata breaks. What if it’s one of those reinforced ones? The kind that survives emotional trauma?” “Then we improvise. I’ll trip and ‘accidentally’ knock it over with my purse. Which will, coincidentally, be the same size as a small duffel bag.” “Your purse is already the size of a small duffel bag.” “And yet you’ve never once offered to carry it.” “Because last time, I found a bowling trophy and a cactus inside. Not *a* cactus. *Ten.*” “Those were emotional support cacti. They had names.” “I’m not arguing with the plants, Molly. I’m arguing with the plan. We’re grown adults sneaking into a *bouncy castle* to steal Transformers and artisanal slime.” “It’s not stealing, it’s redistributing wealth to people who appreciate it—me and you.” “Redistribution usually doesn’t involve a glitter cannon and a singing Barney.” “He’s not even real, Bill! That’s just some guy sweating under purple fur. We’re doing society a favor.” “The only thing we’re doing is risking jail time for a haul that’ll barely cover bail.” “It won’t be that bad. Worst case, we get caught. What’s the worst they can do—make us sit in time-out? Wear a dunce cap? I’ve worn stranger hats.” “They’ll expel us, Molly!” “They can’t expel adults from preschools. That’s not how it works.” “They’ll call our parents.” “Oh, don’t be ridiculous. My mother’s in Boca. Yours thinks you’re in therapy for arson.” “I *am* in therapy for arson!” “Exactly. So no one’s the wiser. Now, are you in or are you going to spend the weekend watching infomercials and eating gummy vitamins again?” “You really think we can pull this off?” “I’ve seen you sneak an entire roast turkey out of a catering hall wearing a bridesmaid dress.” “That was one time! And it was *deviled ham*.” “Still counts. Look—cake gets cut at 3:15. Presents are unwrapped by 3:45. We hit it at 3:30. Maximum chaos, minimal suspicion.” “What if they have a magic show?” “Even better. Everyone’s looking at the disappearing rabbit, not the disappearing PlayStation.” “You’re insane. I need new hobbies.” “And I need less judgment. Now, go buy a clown nose. Preferably one that doubles as a walkie-talkie.” “I don’t think those exist.” “They will by Tuesday. Walmart’s website is a miracle, Bill. Now grow a spine and grab a balloon animal—our future depends on it.”