Run: 2026-09-02-01M1GV32EYB16E963ZBMPMQ8DA

Molly slapped the blueprint onto the table of their storage unit, which doubled as planning headquarters and Bill's bowling shrine. The blueprint was, in fact, a birthday invitation, glitter-encrusted, addressed to one Madison Henderson, age seven. In the margins, Madison had drawn a cat. Molly had drawn an escape route through its whiskers. "Target: Henderson residence, Saturday, two p.m. Objective: fourteen presents, one of which is a Nintendo Switch, still boxed." Bill leaned in, still chewing lunch. "I cased it. Bouncy castle out front, balloon arch, some uncle in a dinosaur costume working the door." "Threat level?" "Zero. His breath could drop a horse at forty paces." "Then he's neutralized by fruit punch by three." Molly circled the garage on the map with a breadstick. "We go in as the entertainment." Bill's hand shot up like he was in school. "I call clown." "You don't get clown. You got clown at the christening and traumatized a child." "I did one knife trick." "Clowns don't do knife tricks, Bill. That's why a nun threw us out." She slid a flyer across the table. "We're princesses. Aurora and Belle. The party agency's booked solid, and the mother is desperate." "I'm not wearing a dress." "It's a disguise, not a dress. You take the gift table. I'll run a thirty-minute puppet show as distraction." "With what puppets?" "The puppets I've spent three weeks making. Remember all the felt?" "I thought you'd started a sad little hobby." "Focus. You bag the presents during musical statues. Nobody watches anything during musical statues. It's a natural eclipse of attention." Bill chewed thoughtfully. "What about the piñata? I hear kids guard that thing like it's the crown jewels." "We don't touch the piñata. That's a decoy. They can keep the piñata." "Since when do we leave valuables behind?" "Since a piñata full of Smarties isn't worth a bite mark. You still have the scar from the hamster." "That hamster had it coming." "That hamster was defending a seven-year-old, which is the whole problem with children. They're fast, they're loyal, and they hunt in packs. One spots you and they all start asking questions. Have you ever tried lying to a child? 'I'm from the council' does not work on them." "So I grab, you wrap the show, we're out." "Service door by the kitchen, three sharp, before cake. Nobody leaves before cake. It's unnatural." Bill raised his hand again. "What's my princess name?" "Belle." "Because I'm the beauty?" "Because your cover story is that you like reading, and I didn't want you improvising. Now, if a child asks about your mustache—" "I say I lost a bet to Maleficent. Already workshopped it." Molly stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. "Fine. That's usable. Tiaras on three." Bill patted his duffel bag, where two cardboard wands rattled cheerfully against a crowbar and forty zip ties. "Tiaras on three," he agreed. Somewhere across town, Madison Henderson was practicing blowing out seven candles, blissfully unaware that her big day now had a budget line for crowbars.