Run: 2026-09-02-01M1H5HNES46P5B89KCCQ6TR90

Molly pressed her face against the party supply store window and snorted. "Balloon arch, Bill. They've got a balloon arch." "Nothing says 'steal from children' like a balloon arch," Bill said, adjusting his ski mask. "Remember the plan. You take the cake table, I take the present pile." "Why do I get the cake table? There's no cake yet." "Because you ate the last job's getaway snacks, that's why." "That was one granola bar." "Three granola bars, Bill. I counted." A clown walked past them inside, juggling rubber chickens. Bill shuddered. "I hate clowns." "Everyone hates clowns. That's not a personality." "I'm just saying, if we encounter one, I'm not responsible for my actions." "Your actions will be stealing presents, same as mine." Bill pulled out a crayon-drawn floor plan. "Okay. Bounce house here, presents there, parents' coffee station over—wait. Coffee station?" "Focus." "I'm just saying, a man needs caffeine for larceny." Molly sighed. "Fine. Coffee first, crime second." "That's the spirit. What's our exit strategy?" "You go out the bounce house exit. I go through the slide." "The slide? I get the bounce house and you get the slide? That's favoritism." "It's physics, Bill. You wouldn't fit." He deflated slightly. "Fair. What do we do with the presents?" "We sell them, obviously." "It's a kid's party, Mol. What if we just... kept one? For the kid?" Molly stared at him. "Are you developing a conscience?" "Maybe a small one." "Return it or I'm telling the clown about you."