Run: 2026-06-01-01KT1HJ7YFYWGZ7XAS5JJJXV9S

Molly spread the blueprint across the kitchen table, smoothing out the wrinkles with the side of her hand. It was, technically, a birthday party invitation, but she'd circled the important parts in red marker. "Okay," she said. "The target is one Timmy Henderson, age seven. The objective is the present table." Bill leaned over her shoulder, squinting. "Why is there a clown drawn on the invitation?" "That's not on the invitation. I drew that." "Why?" "Because clowns are scary, Bill. It sets the tone." Bill pulled up a chair and sat down heavily. "I just want it on the record that I think robbing a child is the lowest we've ever gone." "Lower than the retirement home?" "We gave the dentures back." "After we lost the bet." Molly tapped the paper. "Focus. The party starts at two. Cake at three. That's our window." "Why during cake?" "Because, my dear Bill, when there is cake, all eyes are on the cake. Nobody watches the presents during cake. It's basic psychology." Bill rubbed his chin. "And how do we get in? Last I checked, two adults showing up to a kid's party without a kid looks suspicious." "That's why," Molly said, reaching under the table, "we have these." She produced two enormous cardboard heads. One was a purple dinosaur. The other was something that may have once been a cat. Bill stared. "Absolutely not." "You'll be Mr. Whiskers. I'll be Dino." "I am a forty-six-year-old man, Molly." "And Mr. Whiskers is timeless." She shoved the cat head into his arms. "Parents love entertainers. They'll practically throw the kids at us. We blend in, we work the crowd, and when the cake comes out, we load the presents into the magic bag." Bill turned the head over in his hands. "There's a magic bag?" "It's a garbage bag. But the kids don't know that." "This is a terrible plan." "It's a beautiful plan. Now, the getaway." She slid a photo across the table. It showed a small pink bicycle with tassels and a basket. Bill blinked. "That's our getaway vehicle?" "It was the only thing in the garage that wouldn't draw attention at a children's party." "A grown man on a child's bike is the most attention a person can draw." "Not if he's wearing a cat head." Bill set the head down very slowly. "Molly. I love you. We've been partners for eleven years. But I need you to hear me when I say this is the dumbest scheme you have ever cooked up, and you once tried to rob a bank using a sock puppet." "The sock puppet almost worked." "The teller called the puppet 'adorable' and gave it a lollipop." Molly stood, pulling the dinosaur head down over her own. Her voice came out muffled and triumphant. "Mr. Whiskers," she boomed, "we leave at thirteen hundred hours." Bill sighed, looked at the cat head, and looked at the tiny pink bicycle leaning against the wall. "I'm going to need a bigger bag," he muttered.