Run: 2026-06-01-01KT1JA296YE3QVYGZV0JN9YFM

"So we're really doing this?" Bill asked. "We're doing this," Molly said. "Stealing presents. From children." "From a child. Singular. One spoiled birthday boy." "How do we get in?" "Clown costumes. Nobody questions clowns." "I hate clowns." "Everyone hates clowns, Bill. That's the genius. They won't look at us." "What about the parents?" "Distracted. Cake, juice boxes, existential despair. We slip in, grab the pile, slip out." "And the kids?" "What about them?" "They'll cry." "Children cry constantly. It's their natural state." "This feels wrong, Molly." "You robbed a retirement home last spring." "That was different. They were asleep." "You stole from sleeping seniors but won't rob a party?" "Seniors don't believe in magic anymore. Kids do." "Oh, here we go." "I'm just saying, there's an innocence—" "There's an Xbox, Bill. Three of them, probably. Plus cash in birthday cards." "How much cash?" "Now you're interested." "I'm asking questions." "Grandparents give twenties. There'll be a dozen cards minimum." "So roughly—" "Two hundred, easy. Plus electronics." "Fine. But I'm not making balloon animals." "You'll make balloon animals if a child asks." "I don't know how!" "Then learn, Bill. We're professionals."