Run: 2026-07-01-01KWE9GFRW67S4BDSHY33F2VCA

Molly spread the blueprint across the table, tracing a finger along the hallway that led to the gift table. "So we're really doing this," Bill said. "Robbing a six-year-old's birthday party." "Not robbing," Molly said. "Liberating. Big difference." "Enlighten me." "Robbing implies the victims deserve sympathy. Nobody feels bad for spoiled kids with forty presents each." Bill crossed his arms. "I feel bad. There's gonna be a bounce house, Molly. A bounce house." "Then bounce your guilty conscience right into the car, because we're going in at three, when they cut the cake." "That's cold. Cake-cutting is sacred." "Cake-cutting is a distraction. Everyone's watching candles, nobody's watching presents." Bill sighed, tapping the blueprint. "And the clown?" "Tie him up. Gag him with balloon animals." "You're a monster." "I'm a professional." Molly smirked. "Besides, we split the loot fifty-fifty, minus my cut for planning." "Wait, what happened to fifty-fifty?" "Sixty-forty. Genius tax." Bill groaned, grabbing his jacket. "Fine. But if that clown remembers my face—" "He won't. Nobody remembers clowns. That's the tragedy of clowns." They shared a look, grabbed their masks shaped like party hats, and disappeared into the afternoon light.