Run: 2026-05-29-01KSSJNBMXGHR5R4C85ZANFV4N

Molly spread the blueprint across the kitchen table, smoothing out the wrinkles with the reverence of a surgeon prepping for an operation. Bill leaned over her shoulder, chewing a toothpick. "Okay," Molly said. "The Hendersons' backyard. Saturday. Two o'clock. Timmy's seventh birthday." "Seven," Bill repeated. "That's a lot of presents." "That's the *point*, Bill. Seven-year-olds are spoiled rotten these days. We're talking iPads, LEGO sets, maybe a drone." Bill straightened up. "A drone? I've always wanted a drone." "Focus." Molly tapped the paper. "Here's the bounce castle. Here's the snack table. And here—" she circled an X in red marker, "—is the present pile. Mount Treasure." "What about security?" "Twenty children and four adults. The adults will be distracted by the clown." Bill's toothpick dropped from his mouth. "There's a clown?" "There's always a clown." "I hate clowns, Molly. You know I hate clowns." "You robbed an armored truck last spring." "Armored trucks don't have giant red noses and squeaky shoes." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. "The clown is *our friend*, Bill. While he's twisting balloon animals, nobody's watching the presents. We walk in, we grab the loot, we walk out. Five minutes, tops." Bill paced the kitchen. "And how exactly do two grown adults walk into a child's birthday party without anyone noticing?" "That," Molly said, grinning, "is the genius part." She reached under the table and produced a plastic bag, dumping its contents out. Two costumes tumbled free—one a sparkly fairy outfit, the other a foam dinosaur suit. Bill stared. "No." "You're the entertainment. I'm the face-painter." "I am not wearing that." "Then you're not getting the drone." Bill picked up the dinosaur head and turned it over in his hands like it was a dead animal. "Why do I have to be the dinosaur?" "Because you've got the build for it. Now, the getaway. Our van is parked here, by the fence. We toss the presents over, hop in, and we're gone before the cake's even cut." "What if a kid sees us?" Molly shrugged. "Who's a kid gonna believe? Themselves, or a magical dinosaur and a beautiful fairy?" Bill had to admit, grudgingly, that the logic was airtight. He tugged the dinosaur head on and his voice came out muffled. "This smells like feet." "You look adorable. Now repeat the plan." "Walk in. Distract the children. Grab Mount Treasure. Toss it over the fence. Don't get caught by the clown." "And?" Bill sighed inside the costume. "And under no circumstances do I eat any of the cake, no matter how good it looks." "Exactly. We are professionals." "Professionals dressed as a fairy and a dinosaur." Molly slipped on her wings and admired herself in the toaster's reflection. "The greatest heist crew this neighborhood has ever seen." Bill waddled toward the door, tail dragging behind him. "If I trip over these feet and faceplant in front of toddlers, I'm quitting crime forever." "Sure you will," Molly said, grabbing the van keys. "Right after the drone."