Run: 2026-06-01-01KT1GAHYTZ934VQZVDE6NF1GP

Molly adjusted her oversized novelty sunglasses and stared at the flyer stapled to the telephone pole. "Bill," she said, "this is it. Our retirement plan." Bill squinted at the paper. "A birthday party? For a kid named... Declan?" "Seven years old. Look at that gift registry. Molly pointed at a laminated list. There's a PS5, two iPads, and what I can only assume is a solid gold pony." "A solid gold pony, Molly?" "It's a very generous family, Bill." Bill tugged at the strap of his duffel bag, which clinked ominously. "I don't know. Kids' parties have parents. Parents have eyes. Eyes have 911 buttons." "That's why we'll dress as entertainment." Molly produced two glittering wigs from her satchel. One was neon pink. The other resembled a frightened parrot. "Absolutely not. I'm not wearing the parrot." "You'll wear the parrot or you'll wear the chicken, and trust me, Bill, the chicken is humiliating. I wore it to my nephew's baptism and his godmother still won't make eye contact." Bill reluctantly took the parrot. "Fine. What's my cover story?" "You're Declan's surprise uncle from Winnipeg. I've been Declan's clown aunt for three months. We've been preparing a very special magic show." "A magic show, Molly? You can't even shuffle a deck without dropping half the cards." "Which is why you'll be doing the actual magic. You're a retired accountant. You can misdirect. You do it every April." Bill sighed, pulling the parrot wig over his head. "Okay. Entry. Then what?" "Balloons," Molly said firmly. "We bring in a giant box of balloons. The parents are distracted. We mingle. We identify the gift table. We create a diversion." "Which is?" "A piñata emergency. I'll pretend it's filled with bees." "It won't be filled with bees, Molly." "It will be filled with wasps, Bill, and I will scream with such conviction that every adult in that yard will form a protective human shield around the children, leaving the gift table completely unsupervised for approximately ninety seconds." "And then I swoop in." "With the duffel." "With the duffel." Bill paused. "What if there's a dog?" "There's always a dog. That's why I bought sixty hot dogs." "Sixty?" "The dog will be so distracted by the cornucopia of processed meat that it won't notice me waddling out with a sack of seven-year-old's birthday loot." Molly snapped the wig into place. "We'll split it seventy-thirty." "Why seventy-thirty?" "Because I did the recon. I tailed the birthday mom at Trader Joe's. I know her coffee order. I know her dog's name. I am emotionally invested in this heist, Bill." "Fine. Seventy-thirty." Bill adjusted his beak. "But if we get arrested, you're explaining the parrot to the officer." "Deal." Molly grinned. "Now help me into the clown car. I mean the clown van. I mean the clown situation."