Run: 2026-04-24-01KPZV0WS4Q3WPY401Q1X0WCSC

"Balloons," Molly said. "Balloons?" "Balloons, Bill. That's our way in." Bill blinked. "We're grown adults." "We're grown adults in clown suits delivering balloons. Nobody questions clowns." "Everybody questions clowns. Clowns are deeply suspicious." "Not at a seven-year-old's birthday party." "Especially at a seven-year-old's birthday party!" Molly sighed. "Fine. What's your brilliant plan?" "We go in through the chimney." "It's July. In Phoenix." "Okay, maybe not the chimney." "Look, the presents are stacked on the dining room table. Mom's distracted with cake. Dad's wrestling a piñata. We grab the loot, we're out in ninety seconds." "And the kids?" "What about them?" "They're gonna notice, Molly. Children are small, but they have eyes." "We tell them it's part of the entertainment." "Stealing their presents is the entertainment?" "Magic, Bill. We call it magic." "That's monstrous." "That's a hundred percent markup on resale, is what that is." Bill scratched his chin. "What about the dog?" "What dog?" "There's always a dog." "Bring hot dogs." "Hot dogs." "Hot dogs." "And if little Timmy cries?" Molly stared at him coldly. "Then little Timmy learns a valuable lesson about capitalism." "I love you sometimes." "Focus, Bill."