Run: 2026-05-29-01KSSK37MT5ZXES6TSZFZDT4KY

Molly spread the blueprint across the table, smoothing its wrinkled corners with the reverence of a surgeon preparing for an operation. "Behold," she whispered. "The Hendersons' backyard. Ground zero." Bill squinted at the paper. "That's a child's drawing of a house. There's a sun wearing sunglasses in the corner." "It's reconnaissance, Bill. I had to blend in. The birthday boy thinks I'm his Aunt Patricia now." "You don't have a nephew named Henderson." "I have many nephews I've never met," Molly said, tapping the crayon scribbles. "Now focus. The party starts at two. Presents arrive between two and two-fifteen. That's our window." Bill leaned back, crossing his arms. "I still think this is beneath us. We robbed a casino last spring." "And we netted forty dollars and a commemorative ashtray," she snapped. "Children's birthdays are a goldmine. Untapped. Unguarded. Nobody suspects the cake table." "What's the take?" Molly's eyes gleamed. "Action figures. Building sets. And if the intel is correct, one limited-edition gaming console." Bill whistled low. "That's three hundred dollars, easy." "Now you're listening." She produced two paper party hats from her bag and plopped one onto his head. "We go in disguised as entertainers. I'm the magician. You're my assistant." "Why am I always the assistant?" "Because last time you were the magician, you set a man's mustache on fire." "That was a calculated risk." Molly ignored him, sketching a hasty diagram. "I dazzle the crowd with card tricks. Meanwhile, you load the gifts into the rabbit hutch." Bill blinked. "The what?" "The prop rabbit hutch. It's hollow. Holds twelve presents and one extremely angry rabbit named Gerald." "Why do we need Gerald?" "For authenticity, Bill. A magician without a rabbit is just a sad man shuffling cardboard." He frowned, adjusting his ridiculous hat. "And the parents? They won't notice their kids' loot vanishing?" "By the time they realize, we'll be halfway down the cul-de-sac in the getaway minivan." Molly grinned. "I rented one. It has a sticker that says 'Baby On Board.' Nobody chases a minivan." "You've thought of everything." "I always do." She paused. "Except snacks. We'll need an exit strategy and a juice box." Bill stood, pacing. "And if it goes wrong? If the children turn on us?" "Children are small and easily distracted by balloon animals." Molly handed him a deflated balloon. "Which is why you'll be making seventeen of them." "I can only make a worm." "Then you'll make seventeen worms and call them snakes." Bill exhaled, staring at the limp balloon in his palm like it held the weight of his entire criminal career. "This is the lowest we've ever sunk." "No," Molly corrected, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "This is the highest. Think bigger, Bill. After today, we own the entire children's party circuit. Bouncy castles. Petting zoos. We'll be legends." He considered this. Slowly, a smile crept across his face. "Pass me Gerald," he said. "Now," Molly beamed, "you're thinking like a professional."