Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0NSSWPKAZPA41CY97S472B

Molly flattened the party invitation on the table. “Listen, Bill, at three o’clock the jelly arrives, at three-oh-five the magician loses a rabbit, and at three-ten we glide in.” “Glide? I wore squeaky shoes.” “Then squeak confidently.” “What if the children notice us stealing all the presents?” “We’re not stealing; we’re temporarily relocating joy.” “To our van.” “To our van-shaped annex of opportunity.” “Children cry loudly, Molly.” “So do police sirens, but you never complain until they’re close.” “I’m just saying, birthday parties have defenses. Balloons. Grandmothers. Sticky hands.” “I have neutralized sticky hands.” “How?” “Wet wipes and flattery.” “What about the clown?” “If he’s real, we avoid eye contact. If he’s hired, we bribe him with cake.” “Cake is evidence.” “Cake is morale.” Bill peered at the invitation. “It says ‘Princess Lottie turns six.’ We’re robbing Princess Lottie?” “Don’t humanize the mark.” “She drew a unicorn in crayon.” “Fine. We steal only the loud presents.” “Drums, whistles, robot dogs?” “Exactly. We’re public servants.” “And the quiet presents?” “We leave a note: ‘Dear Princess, you’re welcome. Love, sensible criminals.’” Bill sighed. “I’ll bring the wipes.” “And a card.” “Why?” “Villains need manners.” “Fine. Glitter?” “Absolutely not. We’re thieves, not monsters.”