Run: 2026-09-02-01M1H58AY1RJHQYFFAEZ4KEXD8

The van sat in the parking lot of the community center, engine off, the glow of streamers visible through the frosted windows. "Read the intel back to me one more time," Molly said, adjusting her ski mask. Bill unfolded a crumpled piece of paper. "Kid's birthday party. Three to five PM. Theme is, uh, 'Under the Sea.' Twenty-two confirmed guests. Presents go on a table by the gift bin." "Twenty-two presents from eight-year-olds. What are they even gonna be? Legos? Sticky hands?" "One of them is rumored to be a Nintendo Switch." Molly froze. "A Switch? From a kid named Tyler whose dad sells insurance?" "Double income, no mortgage. I did the research." "That's the most depressing thing you've ever said, and you once described your childhood to me in a parking garage." Bill shrugged. "Point is, it's a solid haul. We go in through the kitchen, blend with the parents, and walk out like we're carrying presents to the car. Nobody questions gift-carrying people." "That's the plan? Blend in?" "Look at us. We're thirtysomethings with soft bodies. We look exactly like people at a kid's party." Molly stared at him. "We're wearing ski masks, Bill." "For the entry. After entry, masks off. We become Norm and, uh, Karen." "Karen. Great. Why am I Karen?" "Because you're the one who complains. You're a natural." She sighed and pulled the mask up. "Okay. What's the exit strategy if a kid sees us?" "Kids love strangers at parties. You tell them you're the balloon guy." "I don't know anything about balloons." "It's a party, Molly. Nobody knows anything about balloons. They just assume there's a balloon guy. Be the balloon guy." Bill checked his watch. "Cake's at four-thirty. That's when all attention goes to the birthday kid singing time. We grab, we go, we're eating cold pizza in the van by four-forty." "You've thought about the cake timing a lot." "Maybe I like parties, Molly. Maybe this whole heist is my way of reconnecting with joy." "You told me last week you cried at a car wash." "The spinning foam was beautiful and I stand by that." Molly peered through the windshield. "There's a clown van. They hired a clown." "Good. Distraction." "Bad. Clowns steal from parties, Bill. That's our turf. We're poaching on clown turf." "Then we work fast. In and out. Like clowns, but with purpose." Molly unbuckled her seatbelt. "Last chance to say this is insane. We're stealing from children." "We're stealing from parents who overcompensate, and one kid whose dad sells insurance. The children will get other presents." "That's almost philosophy." "Thank you." "It was a criticism, Bill." "I know. I'm choosing to take it as a compliment." They stepped out into the cold, two figures walking toward the sound of twenty-two children screaming the word 'pizza.' "Remember," Molly whispered, "we're Norm and Karen." "Best friends a party's ever seen." "And if the clown makes eye contact?" "Then you know what to do." "Vow silence?" "Punch the clown, Molly. Punch the clown."