Run: 2026-07-01-01KWEA2YMETAHYXF06QJRH5AH7

# The Great Birthday Heist Molly slammed the blueprint down on the table, nearly knocking over Bill's coffee. "Twelve presents, Bill. Twelve. All wrapped in that shiny paper that makes noise when you breathe near it." "So we breathe less." "You can't breathe less, Bill. That's not how breathing works." "I held my breath for two minutes once. During the Hendricks job." "You passed out during the Hendricks job." "I was resting my eyes." Molly rubbed her temples. "The party starts at three. Bounce house goes up at two-thirty. That's our window." "What about the clown?" "What clown?" "Every kid's party's got a clown, Molly. It's basic heist reconnaissance. You don't know your clown, you don't know your enemy." "There's no intel suggesting a clown." "That's exactly what a clown would want you to think." Molly stared at him for a long moment. "We're stealing birthday presents from seven-year-olds, and you're worried about a hypothetical clown." "I've got a thing about clowns." "Since when?" "Since Cleveland." "We've never been to Cleveland." "Exactly." Bill leaned back, arms crossed, like this settled everything. Molly decided not to pursue that thread. "Okay. Focus. I go in disguised as the balloon artist. You're on present extraction, disguised as—" "The dad who forgot to bring a gift and is now awkwardly hovering by the snack table." "That's not a disguise, Bill, that's just a personality trait you already have." "It's method acting." "Fine. Method-act your way to the gift table. Grab everything, stuff it in the bag, we're out before the piñata even cracks." Bill picked up a balloon from the prop bag and squeaked it thoughtfully. "What if a kid asks me to make a balloon dog?" "You're not the balloon artist. I'm the balloon artist." "But what if a kid asks *me*?" "Then you say you specialize in balloon *cats* and walk away." "Balloon cats aren't a thing." "They are now." Bill considered this, nodding slowly, as if Molly had just revealed some deep truth of the universe. "What's the getaway?" "Ice cream truck. Parked two blocks down. We load the presents, we drive off, we sell novelty popsicles to confused children for exactly four minutes as cover." "I love this plan." "You say that about every plan." "I loved the plan where we dressed as mascots for the mattress store." "That plan got us chased by actual security for six blocks." "Character building." Bill stood, stretching, cracking his knuckles with unnecessary drama. "One question. The cake. Are we talking chocolate, or—" "We are not stealing the cake, Bill." "I didn't say steal. I said *taste*. For quality control. What if the cake is evidence?" "Evidence of what?" "Deliciousness. Someone should verify it before we vanish into the night." Molly grabbed the blueprints, folding them with a sigh that carried the weight of every heist she'd ever planned with this man. "Fine. One bite." "One bite," Bill agreed, already reaching for his balloon-cat gloves.