Run: 2026-07-01-01KWE90BF3SNJDY5Z9EZFYW334

The back room of the pawn shop smelled like mothballs and bad decisions. Molly spread the blueprint across the table—if you could call a crayon drawing of a house a blueprint. "Bill, I need you to focus. This is a seven-year-old's birthday party. Maximum security is a golden retriever named Biscuit." "Dogs are unpredictable, Molly. I got bit by a chihuahua in '09. Still got the scar." "That was a hamster, and you stepped on it." "Semantics." Molly tapped the drawing. "Here's the plan. Front door's got a bounce house blocking half the entry. We go in through the side gate, wearing the clown costumes—" "Absolutely not. I told you, I've got a thing about clowns." "You ARE the clown, Bill. That's the disguise." "I know what I am! I'm saying I don't want to look at myself in a mirror while wearing it. It's psychologically damaging." "You're a forty-three-year-old man planning to rob children." "There's a difference between committing crimes and confronting your fears, Molly. Some lines shouldn't be crossed." She rubbed her temples. "Fine. You wear the dinosaur costume. I'll be the clown." "That works. Dinosaurs are noble." "They're extinct, Bill." "Noble AND extinct. Two great tastes." Molly moved a plastic action figure across the table like a chess piece. "Okay, focus. Presents are on the gift table, back left corner, next to the cake. We've got maybe a ninety-second window when they cut the cake and everyone rushes over." "Ninety seconds to grab, what, thirty presents?" "Twenty-six. I counted the RSVPs on the invitation Facebook post." "You're stalking seven-year-olds now?" "I'm doing RECON. There's a difference." "Is there, though?" "Shut up. The presents are labeled by size—big ones probably bikes or scooters, those we leave, too conspicuous. We want the mid-size boxes. Nintendo Switches, LEGO sets, that sort of thing. High resale value, low carrying weight." Bill leaned back, arms crossed. "You've really thought this through." "Someone has to. Last job you tried to steal a parking meter." "It looked lonely." "It was BOLTED to the sidewalk, Bill." "So was I, emotionally, that day. We all cope differently." Molly pulled out two costume bags and tossed one at him. "Here's yours. Try not to trip on the tail this time." "That was ONE time, and the goat startled me." "There was no goat." "There's ALWAYS a goat, Molly. That's what makes it scary." She zipped up her clown bag with a sigh. "Just remember—we're in, we grab, we're out before the piñata even breaks." "And if a kid asks why we're stealing their presents?" Molly paused, considering this for the first time. "We tell them Santa's doing an audit." "In July?" "Kids don't know calendars, Bill." "That's... actually diabolical." "Thank you. Now put on the dinosaur head. We've got a birthday to ruin."