Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ01WVJD9FMJHCWDTS59DV9W

Bill spread the blueprints across the kitchen table, though they were clearly just a crayon drawing of a house he'd found in a recycling bin. "Alright, Molly, here's the target. The Henderson residence. Saturday. Three PM." Molly leaned over and squinted at the paper. "Bill, this is drawn in purple crayon." "That's tactical discretion. Nobody suspects crayon." "What's the job, Bill?" "Children's birthday party. Five-year-old's bash. The haul is massive, Molly. I'm talking gift bags stuffed with toys, wrapped boxes with those little curly ribbons, gift cards to toy stores. We're talking a fortune." Molly crossed her arms. "You want to rob a five-year-old's birthday party." "I want to rob a five-year-old's birthday party." "There will be adults there, Bill." "How many are we talking?" "I'd estimate at least fifteen parents standing around making awkward small talk and eating sheet cake." Bill waved his hand dismissively. "They'll be distracted. Have you ever watched parents at a kids' party? They're zombies. They've been awake since five AM. They've already survived a bouncy castle situation. They won't even see us." "See us how? We can't exactly walk in the front door." "We walk in the front door." "Bill." "We walk in the front door, Molly. I've already RSVP'd." Molly stared at him. "You RSVP'd to a child's birthday party." "On the Evite. I said I was coming. I'm Gary from Accounting." "You don't work in accounting." "I work in accounting now. I brought seven bottles of wine." "You can't bring wine to a five-year-old's party." "That's what makes it a perfect cover. Everyone's confused. When people are confused, they don't ask questions. I walk in confused. They're confused. We're all confused together. That's called blending in." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. "And the exit strategy?" "I rented a minivan." "You rented a minivan." "I rented a minivan, Molly. It's got a sliding door on both sides. Maximum efficiency. We load the haul in the back while the kids are distracted by the clown." "There's a clown?" "There's always a clown. Nobody likes clowns, but everyone has to pretend. That's our window. When that clown starts making balloon animals, every parent in that room is going to be staring at their shoes praying for death. That's when we make our move." "And what do we do if someone notices two grown adults carrying armfuls of presents toward the exit?" "We cry." Molly paused. "We cry?" "Emotional overwhelm. I've been practicing." Bill's face crumpled into an exaggerated sob. "These kids, Molly. They have so much. It's just so beautiful watching them share." "That's disturbing, Bill." "It's Oscar-worthy is what it is. Now, are you in or not?" Molly looked at the crayon blueprints. She looked at Bill. She looked at the minivan keys dangling from his finger. "What flavor is the cake?" "Confetti." Molly sighed. "I'm in."