Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD7JSV9Z7KGYG9FDRHDSRRP

Molly unrolled the blueprint across the hood of the getaway car, which was, for reasons Bill refused to explain, a 1997 hatchback with a bumper sticker that read "My Other Car Is Also Bad." "Alright," she said. "The Henderson kid's birthday. Saturday. Two o'clock." "Two o'clock," Bill repeated, squinting at the blueprint, which was actually a crayon drawing Molly had commissioned from her nephew for the price of one juice box. "Why does the house have a dragon on it?" "That's the dog. Focus. The presents will be on the gift table, here, next to the cake." "How big's the cake?" "Bill." "I'm asking for logistical reasons. If we're carrying forty presents, we need energy. Cake is energy." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. "We're not eating the cake, Bill." "There's always a segment of any heist where I don't get to eat something, and I just think it's worth naming that pattern." "The plan," Molly continued, "is simple. We arrive dressed as the entertainment." "What entertainment?" "Clowns." Bill took a long breath. "Molly. You know about my thing." "Your thing is that you're afraid of clowns, and you are the clown. That's called exposure therapy." "That's called a lawsuit waiting to happen. Can I be the magician?" "You can't do magic." "I can do one trick. I can make my confidence disappear." Molly folded her arms. "Fine. You're the balloon animal guy." "Excellent. I can make a dog and a snake, and the snake is just a dog with no legs." "Perfect. Nobody will suspect a thing. Now, timing. The piñata happens at three. That's our window." "Why?" "Because when forty sugared-up children start swinging a bat at a cardboard donkey, not one adult in that yard will be watching the gift table. It's chaos. Beautiful, screaming chaos." Bill nodded slowly. "That's actually genius. Horrible, but genius. What's our cover story if someone catches us loading presents into the car?" "We're the gift relocation service." "That's not a real thing." "Bill, we once robbed a petting zoo by telling the owner we were the goat relocation service. You wore a name tag that said 'Goat Man.' It worked." "It worked because the goats liked me." "The goats loved you. The point is, confidence sells the lie. We walk in, we smile, we say the presents are being moved to a 'secure gift annex'—" "What's a gift annex?" "Nothing. It's nothing. That's why it works. Nobody questions an annex." Bill stared at the crayon drawing for a moment. "Can I ask a question that might get me kicked out of the gang?" "We're not a gang, we're a duo, and yes." "This is a kid's birthday party. Are we the bad guys?" Molly considered this. "Bill. We once stole a mayor's toupee during his inauguration speech. Live. On camera. This is nothing." "That toupee was evidence in a corruption case." "And it looked fantastic on you. Now, what's the rule?" Bill sighed. "In and out before the piñata dies." "And?" "No eating the evidence." "Good. Saturday, two o'clock. Bring your balloon pump." "It's not a pump, Molly. It's an inflation apparatus." "Bill." "Fine. Pump. It's a pump."