Run: 2026-05-01-01KQHSQRP3TM6ZDQM5HA70ATCM

Molly adjusted her oversized clown wig and stared at the crayon-drawn map on the kitchen table. "Bill, this is the dumbest idea you've ever had, and you've had some stinkers. We're breaking into a children's birthday party? For presents?" Bill grinned like a man who'd just invented sliced bread. "Exactly! Think about it, Mol. Twenty sugar-high kids, one distracted mom, and a mountain of wrapped toys nobody's guarding. It's perfect. We go in as the entertainment. I juggle, you do that creepy balloon animal thing you do." "I don't do creepy balloon animals. I do artistic balloon sculptures. Last time a kid cried because I made a giraffe that looked like it was plotting revenge." Molly tapped the map. "How do we even get out? These things have those stupid safety gates everywhere. And what about the goody bags? Those are basically landmines of plastic junk." "Simple," Bill said, leaning in. "We perform, we 'accidentally' knock over the present table during the big finale. While everyone's screaming and laughing, we shove everything into the giant teddy bear costume I'm wearing. Then we yell 'Happy birthday!' and waddle out the back door like we meant to do that." Molly rubbed her temples. "Bill, the bear costume is two sizes too small. You'll look like a depressed grizzly who lost a bet. And what if they want us to stay for cake? I can't eat cake in a clown nose. It gets all sticky." "We tell them we're on a gluten-free, fun-free diet. Look, the birthday kid's turning six. His name's Timmy. He wants a robot dinosaur. We steal that first. It's the big one. Then we grab the rest while the parents are filming on their phones. Nobody watches the actual humans when there's a screen involved." "What about the other kids? They'll rat us out. 'Mommy, the clown lady took my Lego spaceship!' Kids are tiny narcs, Bill." "We give them decoy balloons. I stuff them with those cheap rings from the dollar store. They'll be so busy fighting over plastic jewelry they won't notice their real presents are gone until tomorrow. By then we're in Mexico living off stolen Pokémon cards." Molly stared at him. "Mexico? With children's toys? We're not even good at this. Last heist we stole a guy's lunchbox thinking it was a briefcase. It had a juice box in it, Bill. A juice box." "This is different," he insisted. "High risk, high reward. Those presents are worth hundreds. We'll fence them on the dark web. 'Lightly loved children's gifts. Slightly sticky.' We'll be legends." "Legends who get arrested by a PTA committee," Molly grumbled. She sighed, then smirked. "Fine. But if we get caught, I'm blaming you. And I'm keeping the robot dinosaur. That thing's mine." Bill clapped his hands. "That's my girl! Now help me practice my juggling. If I drop one more rubber chicken, the whole plan falls apart." "You're going to drop all of them, aren't you?" "Probably. But that's when the distraction happens. Chaos is our friend, Molly. Chaos... and screaming children."