Run: 2026-07-01-01KWEAF5KNP467PAVT86HD6MKH

The rain hammered against the window of the abandoned laundromat as Molly spread the blueprints across a folding table. Bill leaned over her shoulder, chewing on a piece of licorice like it owed him money. "So let me get this straight," Bill said, squinting at the paper. "We're robbing an eight-year-old's birthday party." "Not robbing," Molly corrected, tapping the layout with a pen. "Liberating. Those presents are just sitting there, unwrapped potential, Bill. Nobody's watching them." "Nobody's watching them because there's a bouncy castle, Molly. A bouncy castle. And clowns. Actual clowns." "Exactly why this works. Who suspects two adults dressed as party clowns of grand larceny?" Bill straightened up, horror dawning. "You got me a costume?" "I got us costumes." "I am not wearing a red nose to steal a PlayStation from a nine-year-old." "Eight-year-old. And it's not just a PlayStation. Timmy Radford's father owns half the shipping containers in this city. That kid's presents are basically a small country's GDP." Bill sat down heavily on a overturned bucket, defeated already. "Why do we always go for the kids' parties? Remember the quinceañera? I still have nightmares about that piñata." "The piñata was self-defense," Molly said. "It swung first." "It was a papier-mâché donkey, Bill—" "I'm Molly." "I know who you are! I'm making a point!" Molly rolled up the blueprints and shoved them into her bag with the practiced efficiency of someone who'd done this a hundred times, because she had. "Look, the plan is simple. We go in as entertainment, do a few balloon animals, keep the parents distracted with a magic show—" "You know magic?" "I know one trick. It involves a disappearing coin and a very confused toddler." "That's not reassuring." "—and while their attention's on the show, we load the presents into the balloon delivery van out back." Bill chewed his licorice thoughtfully, or at least thoughtfully for a man dressed like he'd lost a fight with a costume shop. "And if someone notices two clowns hauling forty presents into a van?" "We say we're taking them to get gift-wrapped properly. Parents love an excuse to offload responsibility." "That's actually diabolical." "Thank you." "I hate that I respect it." Molly grinned, tossing him his rainbow wig. "You'll respect it more when we're splitting the resale value of a limited edition drone collection." Bill caught the wig, examined it with deep suspicion, then sighed and pulled it on. It made him look like a dandelion having an existential crisis. "Fine. But if that donkey piñata is at this party too, I'm walking." "Deal," Molly said, though they both knew it wasn't a deal she intended to keep. Outside, the rain kept falling, and somewhere across town, a very rich eight-year-old was about to have the strangest birthday party of his life.