Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD81GMYRVCJ0VQ1Y87SCZGS

Molly leaned against the brick wall, arms crossed, while Bill furiously scribbled on a crumpled napkin. The afternoon sun glinted off his reading glasses as he squinted at his own handwriting. “We’re *not* stealing from a birthday party, right?” Bill asked, voice muffled by his ever-present nicotine gum. “Yes, we’re stealing from a birthday party,” Molly snapped. “A *specifically* lucrative one. The Henderson kid’s got a reputation for getting the deluxe toy set. You know the one—the one with the robot that shoots foam darts.” Bill looked up from his napkin, suspicion creasing his brow. “You think we can just waltz in there, grab the presents, and leave? What if there’s, like, a helium-filled piñata guarding the loot?” “Focus, Bill. We’re professionals. Or at least, we’re *trying* to be professionals. Remember the whole ‘no one notices the guy in the clown costume’ thing?” “That was *one time*,” Bill hissed. “And I still have nightmares about the squeaky nose honker.” Molly rolled her eyes. “Fine. We’ll go with the ‘clown’ plan again. But this time, I’m wearing the oversized shoes. They’re *perfect* for stealth.” “Stealth?” Bill scoffed. “Molly, you once knocked over a fountain playing hide-and-seek.” “That fountain was *asking for it*.” She jabbed the napkin with her finger. “Point is, we need a distraction. I’m thinking… maybe release a bunch of balloons? Kids love that. While they’re chasing the balloons, we grab the presents and vanish into the sunset.” Bill snorted. “The sunset? It’s three in the afternoon. Unless you’re planning to steal the daylight next.” “Shut up and write down the escape route,” Molly ordered. “And for heaven’s sake, don’t forget the part about the bouncer at the door. He’s got a clipboard and everything. We can’t have him asking us for a password.” “I’ll handle the bouncer,” Bill said, as if reciting a grocery list. “I’ll tell him we’re here for the ‘unicorn face painting’—” “Unicorn face painting?” Molly interrupted. “Bill, that’s not even a thing. That’s just a kid with a blue marker and a terrible haircut.” “Exactly! No one suspects the weird kid with the marker.” Molly paused mid-pace. “Wait. What if the bouncer *is* the weird kid with the marker?” Bill’s face darkened. “Oh, you’re *not* helping.” They stood in silence for a moment, the only sounds the distant squeal of a child on a bounce house and Bill’s pen scratching out a hastily drawn map. “Right,” Molly said finally. “We’ll enter through the back, where the cake delivery truck is parked. You distract the driver with questions about gluten-free options, and I’ll—” “Oh, no,” Bill said, holding up a hand. “I’m not getting into a food fight. Last time I did that, I ended up in the hospital with a splinter.” “You had a splinter from a *cupcake*,” Molly said. “It was a *large* cupcake.” She exhaled loudly. “Fine. We’ll just sneak in during the parade of parents picking up their kids. Slow and quiet. And Bill?” “Yeah?” “Don’t wear the clown shoes. They’re *terrible* for traction.” Bill nodded, already jotting down the plan. “And if we get caught, we’ll blame the goldfish.” Molly smirked. “Now you’re thinking like a criminal.”