Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD5Q2TZH4AXXFV30PZ47BEJ

Molly flattened the blueprint on the hood of the van and tapped it with a chewed pencil. "Okay, Bill. The Henderson birthday party. Saturday, two o'clock. There's at least forty presents on that gift table, and one of them is a PlayStation." "How do you know it's a PlayStation?" Bill asked, licking frosting off his thumb. "Because little Timmy Henderson told his entire second grade class, and his teacher told her book club, and my sister is in that book club." "That's good intel." "That's flawless intel. Now, we go in through the side gate at two-fifteen, right when the clown starts his act. Every adult in that yard will be watching a grown man juggle bowling pins. Nobody watches the gift table during a clown." "Everybody watches the clown," Bill agreed solemnly. "It's nature." "Exactly. You grab the left side of the table, I grab the right, we stuff everything into the bouncy castle." Bill blinked. "The bouncy castle?" "It's got a Velcro flap, Bill. Nobody checks inside a bouncy castle." "Kids check inside bouncy castles. That's the whole point of a bouncy castle." Molly paused. "Fine. We stuff everything into the magician's hat." "There's a clown AND a magician?" "The Hendersons go big. Focus, Bill. The hat is bottomless. It's a prop." "That's a cartoon. Hats have bottoms. I've worn hats." "We'll improvise," Molly snapped. "The point is, we're in and out before cake." "What time is cake?" "Three o'clock." "Do you think we'd have time to—" "No, Bill." "I was just going to say, cake is usually free at parties. It's just sitting there." "We are stealing forty presents, we are not stealing cake. Cake is traceable." "How is cake traceable?" "Someone counts the slices, Bill. Someone always counts the slices." Bill nodded slowly, like a man who had once been undone by slice-counting. "Okay. What do we wear?" "Matching outfits. We say we're the entertainment coordinators." "Do those exist?" "Nobody knows what they look like, that's the beauty of it. Clipboard, headset, confident walk. You could walk into the Pentagon with a clipboard and a confident walk." "I don't have a confident walk. I have the walk of a man who's apologizing to furniture." "Then borrow my walk. Watch me." Molly strutted three steps down the driveway, clipboard raised like a scepter. "See? Purposeful. Unstoppable. A woman who has somewhere to be and a waiver for you to sign." "That's terrifying. Do it again." "Later. Now, the getaway. We roll the presents out in the big circus prop box the magician brought, load it into the van, and we're gone by two-forty." "What if the magician notices his box is heavier?" "Bill. The man pulls rabbits out of thin air. I think he can handle a heavy box." "What if a kid sees us?" "Then we tell them we're the present police, conducting a routine inspection." "Kids believe anything," Bill said with genuine admiration. "Kids believe anything," Molly confirmed, folding the blueprint. "Saturday, two o'clock. Presents, clown, van, gone. The perfect crime." Bill was quiet a moment. "Should we bring Timmy a card?" Molly sighed. "Get in the van, Bill."