Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD6GEQFFJ292BGPY736ECME

Molly spread the floor plan across the hood of the van and weighted the corners with donuts. "Right. The Henderson house. Saturday, two o'clock. Mrs. Henderson is throwing a birthday party for her daughter, Sophie, who is turning seven. By my estimate, there will be twenty-two children, which means twenty-two presents, all stacked on the gift table right here, by the patio door." Bill took a bite of the corner weight. "Twenty-two presents. Molly, that's a big score." "Focus, Bill." "I am focused. What's in them?" "How should I know? Toys. That's the beauty of it. Nobody locks up toys. No alarm system in the world protects a stack of dolls and board games." Bill licked glaze off his thumb and frowned at the diagram. "What's this rectangle in the garden?" "Bouncy castle." "A what?" "A bouncy castle. It's an inflatable structure children jump on." "Can we jump on it?" "No, Bill." "Not even during the getaway?" "Especially not during the getaway." Bill crossed his arms. "I don't see the point of robbing a party if I can't use the facilities." "The point, Bill, is the take. Now, we go in disguised as the entertainment. I've booked us as Pip and Pogo, the clown duo. You're Pogo." "Why am I Pogo?" "Because Pip does the balloon animals, and you once made a balloon dog that looked like a cursed potato." "It was abstract." "Here's the sequence. We arrive at one fifty. I perform for the children in the lounge. You slip out to the garden, load the presents into the sack, walk them to the van, and come back for the finale, which is me making Sophie a balloon crown." "What if someone catches me taking the presents?" "Say you're storing them somewhere safe. Adults love that. Say it with confidence and offer them cake." Bill nodded slowly, committing it to memory. "Store. Safe. Cake." "Exactly." "What about the clown shoes? I can't run in clown shoes." "You won't need to run. It's a children's party in the suburbs, not a bank vault." "Famous last words, Molly. You said that about the petting zoo." "The alpaca had a personal grudge against you and you know it." "It spat in my ear, Molly. My ear." Molly rolled up the floor plan and rescued the remaining donuts. "Look, worst case, the whole thing takes twenty minutes. We're in, we're out, we're twenty-two presents richer, and nobody's the wiser. By the time little Sophie blows out her candles, we're on the motorway eating cake." "We get cake?" "We don't get cake, Bill." "You just said we'd be eating cake." "Figure of speech." "Then I'm bringing my own." Bill pulled a squashed slice from his jacket pocket, wrapped in a napkin. "Always prepared. That's why we're a good team." Molly stared at him for a long moment, then sighed and got in the van. "Fine. But if you drop crumbs on the presents, you're explaining it to Sophie." "Fair enough," said Bill, climbing in beside her. "Saturday, then. Pip and Pogo ride again." "Saturday," Molly agreed, starting the engine. "And Bill? Wear the big shoes anyway. For morale."