Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD54WVD7GSF0J15ACM9PPDF

Molly spread the crayon-drawn floor plan across the hood of Bill's car. "Target: the Henderson kid's seventh birthday. Saturday, two o'clock." "We're really doing this?" Bill scratched his chin. "Stealing from a child?" "Stealing from thirty children, technically. Every guest brings a gift. That's thirty presents, unopened, stacked on one table, guarded by a magician named Wondrous Walter who I happen to know is legally blind." "That's awful. What's my cut?" "Half, as always. Now, entry. Front door's watched by the grandma. She doesn't miss a thing. Woman once caught a kid palming a third juice box from across the yard." "So the back?" "The back has a bouncy castle. You bounce, you squeak, kids swarm you like pigeons on a chip." Molly tapped the paper. "We go in as entertainment." "You want to infiltrate a birthday party." "I want to infiltrate it as clowns, Bill." "I'm not wearing makeup." "Fine. Face paint." "That's makeup with worse marketing." Molly rolled her eyes. "Balloon artist, then. You twist animals, I work the gift table." "I can't twist balloon animals." "You can't do anything, that's why I'm the brains. You'll learn. It's a dog, a sword, or a snake. Those are your three options and two of them are the same balloon." "What's the snake?" "A balloon you gave up on." Bill sighed and studied the plan. "Where's the getaway?" "Kitchen window, two-fifteen, while Walter does his grand finale. He makes a rabbit disappear." "Where does the rabbit go?" "Into his jacket, Bill. It's not a real mystery. The kids scream, the parents film it, and nobody watches the gift table for ninety full seconds." "Ninety seconds to carry thirty presents?" "Twenty-two. Timmy Henderson already opened eight at his grandmother's party last weekend. Greedy little double-dipper. That's actually how I got the intel." "You interrogated a six-year-old?" "I traded him fruit snacks. He's very corruptible." Bill folded his arms. "And if a kid catches us?" "Then we're funny clowns doing a bit." "You said I could be a balloon artist." "The concept evolved, Bill. Crime is fluid. Keep up." Molly rolled up the floor plan. "One more thing. The piñata." "What about it?" "It's full of premium chocolate. The good stuff, imported. Mrs. Henderson showed off at the PTA meeting." Molly's eyes gleamed. "We're not leaving without it." "That's not a present, that's party infrastructure." "Everything is a present if you take it home, Bill. That's the philosophy that built this partnership." "I thought the philosophy was 'never steal from anyone poorer than us.'" "It is. And nobody at that party is poorer than us, because you spent our last score on a jet ski." "It was an investment." "We're landlocked, Bill!" "A man's allowed a dream, Molly." She patted his shoulder. "Dream harder. Practice your balloon dog. Saturday we become legends." "Saturday we become the worst people in Ohio." "Legends," Molly repeated, "are rarely beloved."