Run: 2026-07-01-01KWE9J0DW2PF5M2PJKXJB4AHT

The rain hammered against the window of the van, and Bill checked his watch for the fourth time in as many minutes. Molly sat beside him, tapping a pen against a crumpled piece of paper covered in scribbled diagrams that looked more like a toddler's drawing than an actual heist plan. "So let me get this straight," Bill said, rubbing his temples. "The plan is to break into a seven-year-old's birthday party and steal the presents." "That's the plan," Molly said, grinning. "That's not a plan, Molly. That's a crime against decency." "It's a crime against decency with excellent payout potential. Do you know how much stuff rich kids get for their birthdays these days? I saw the invitation list. There's a senator's kid on there. A senator, Bill." "So we're stealing from senators now." "We're stealing from senators' kids. Slight difference." Bill groaned and slumped back into his seat. "There's going to be, what, thirty kids there? Parents? Clowns? Face painters? How exactly do you propose we walk in and walk out with a truckload of presents without anyone noticing?" Molly held up the paper triumphantly, jabbing a finger at a badly drawn rectangle labeled "TABLE." "We dress as the entertainment. I already called and canceled the real magician. Told him there was a scheduling conflict. Little birthday boy gets us instead." "You're the magician?" "I'm the magician's assistant. You're the magician." "I can't do magic, Molly." "You don't need to do magic, Bill. You need to distract thirty children while I load the presents into the bounce house." "The bounce house." "It deflates. It's basically a duffel bag with balloons on it." Bill stared at her, blinking slowly, as though trying to process whether this was actually happening or some fever dream brought on by too much bad diner coffee. "And if someone notices the presents are missing before the bounce house deflates?" "They won't. Kids don't count presents until the parents make them write thank-you cards, and by then we'll be three states away." "This is insane." "This is genius." "It's insane genius." "See, now you're catching on." Molly reached into the back seat and pulled out a top hat, slightly dented, and a cape that had clearly seen better decades. She tossed them onto Bill's lap. "Chin up, big guy. You're about to become the greatest magician a seven-year-old's birthday has ever seen." Bill turned the hat over in his hands, sighing. "If we get caught, I want it on record that this was your idea." "Noted. Now put on the cape. We've got a driveway full of wrapped boxes waiting for us, and a very sad clown who thinks he still has a gig today." Bill pulled the cape over his shoulders, muttering under his breath the entire time, while Molly checked her watch, smiled, and pulled the van out into the rain.