Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ06NRBXAEM8K9SX47Z07JBM

Molly adjusted her binoculars and glared at the bounce house. "You're telling me your entire plan hinges on a piñata?" Bill finished tying his sneakers, double-knotting them with the gravity of a man defusing a bomb. "Not just any piñata. A ten-foot-tall rainbow unicorn. It's the perfect Trojan horse." "There is nothing perfect about this. We are breaking into a five-year-old's birthday party." "Exactly. Minimal security. Maximal cake." Bill held up a crumpled flyer. "Look, the parents booked 'Sparkles the Clown.' I just called and cancelled her." "You impersonated a clown?" "I freed a clown. Now we slip in during the 'Happy Birthday' song, blend with the entertainment, and snag the gift table while they're distracted by candle-blowing." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. "Bill. We're forty years old." "Which is why we need the money! My landlord doesn't accept dignity." "Why can't we rob a bank like normal criminals?" "Because banks have cameras and guards and consequences. This party's got a piñata, a petting zoo, and zero surveillance. It's a soft target wearing party hats." Bill pulled a neon yellow vest from his duffel bag. "Besides, I've got disguises." "That's a crossing guard vest." "It's authoritative. Kids respect fluorescent authority. You wear the giant foam finger, I'll direct traffic to the presents." Molly stared at the foam finger, then at the suburban backyard visible across the street. A swarm of sugar-crazed children was already shrieking near a bubble machine, and a dog wearing a party hat barked at a balloon. "The gifts are inside, Bill. Behind a locked sliding glass door." "Which is why," Bill said, producing a Twister mat from his bag, "we're the party games." "We're not the party games." "We go in as 'Twister Professionals.' We lay this down right by the door, 'accidentally' prop it open for ventilation, and when the parents bring out the ice cream cake—bam. We slide in like shadows." "Like shadows wearing a crossing guard vest and a foam finger." "Exactly. Contradictions confuse people. It's misdirection 101." Bill paused. "Also, I need you to carry the loot bag." He tossed her a pillowcase with a jack-o'-lantern printed on it. "Halloween?" "It's what I had." Molly held the pillowcase at arm's length. "There are maybe thirty presents in there. Books. Lego sets. Probably clothes. What's our fence going to do with a size-fourT Spider-Man hoodie?" "eBay, Molly. Everything sells on eBay. Last week I moved three stolen garden gnomes in six hours." "You're a menace." "I'm an entrepreneur." Bill checked his watch. "Cake's in twenty. We go in hot, grab the goods, and exit through the side gate during the pony rides." "We're stealing from children." "They're insured by joy. They won't even notice." Bill stood, adjusting the crossing guard vest. "One hour from now we'll be splitting a haul of Nintendo games and lightly used picture books. You want to eat ramen again tonight, or you want to eat like a king?" Molly sighed and shoved her hand into the foam finger. "If I get glitter on me, you're driving the getaway car." "We don't have a getaway car." "Then you'd better run very fast in those double-knotted sneakers."