Run: 2026-09-02-01M1H5B6CVTWGWRZEHS2RHCCRW

Molly crouched behind the inflatable bounce house, adjusting her clown nose. Bill checked the zip ties on his sack for the fifth time. "Okay, walk me through it again," Bill whispered. "The plan is simple. We enter as entertainers, we leave as legends." "We're wearing clown costumes, Molly. Nobody in history has felt less legendary." "Bill, focus. There are fourteen wrapped presents under that candy-themed table. Estimated value: incalculable. Emotional value: devastating." "Devastating? These are for kids." "Precisely. No one will suspect the clowns." "Everyone suspects the clowns. That's the whole thing with clowns. It's why we got the gig rejected from the bank job last spring." "That was a balloon animal issue, not a clown issue. And quit bringing up the bank. We do not discuss the bank." "You cried in the vault." "I was moved by the architecture. Now, what's your position on ponies?" "Excuse me?" "There's a pony. At this party. Named Buttercream. Do we have a contingency for ponies?" Bill stared at her. "You've been planning this for three weeks and you're asking me about a pony now?" "Comedy and chaos, Bill. Comedy and chaos." "I don't even understand what we're doing here. Stealing presents from a six-year-old? What are we, monsters?" "We're professionals. And the birthday boy's father is Gerald Fenwick, the art forger who ratted out my brother. This isn't a heist, it's a statement." "A statement wrapped in shiny paper with a bow on it." "Exactly. Heists are just grudges with logistics." Bill peered around the bounce house. "Okay, so what's the actual exit strategy? Because last time your exit strategy was 'run with feeling.'" "And it worked." "We both got stuck in a doggy door." "Sentimentally, though, we got through it together. Now. You take the balloon sculptor shift at the front. Keep the children distracted. I'll swap the real presents with decoys from the dollar store." "What's in the decoys?" "Educational toys. Math flashcards, mostly." Bill went pale. "Molly. That's dark." "That's the point. Gerald will open those presents on Christmas morning, God willing, and find long division." "I want it on record that I think flashcards are a war crime." "Noted. Also, your balloon guy name is Bubbles." "I hate it." "You're Bubbles now. Own it. Bubbles owns it." "Bubbles does not own it." "Bill—Bubbles—the pony is loose. I repeat, the pony is loose." "Where are you getting this information?" "I can hear hoofsteps. Trust my ears. They got us out of Prague." "Your ears got us INTO Prague. That's the problem." "Semantics. How do you feel about being trampled?" "About the same as I feel about flashcards." "Wonderful. On my signal, we create a distraction. I'm thinking sponge cake to the face of the magician." "Bobo the Magnificent? He does a dove act, Molly." "Then we are going to have a very memorable afternoon, Bubbles." "Three seconds of silence for my dignity." "Too late. Signal's going. Godspeed, and if the pony asks, you've never seen me." Bill groaned. "I always end up talking to the pony."