Run: 2026-09-03-01M1K4PM2P01MDX4D80HZ49TTE

Molly spread the crumpled PTA newsletter across the hood of their getaway minivan, smoothing it with criminal focus. The van still had its BABY ON BOARD sticker and smelled of french fries. Bill leaned over her shoulder, squinting at the newsletter as if it were laser-guarded blueprints. The headline read: JESSICA'S PRINCESS PALACE 6TH BIRTHDAY EXTRAVAGANZA! Below it, a photo showed a backyard transformed into a fortress. There was a bouncy castle guarded by a man in a floppy clown suit, a long table groaning under a mountain of brightly wrapped presents, and a unicorn piñata that looked expensive. Molly tapped the present table with a chipped pink nail. According to her source, which was her nephew Timmy, every kid in Mrs. Henderson's class had been instructed to bring gifts worth at least twenty dollars. That was a lot of untouched LEGO sets and art kits just sitting there. "You want us to rob a children's birthday party? This is a new low, even for us," Bill asked, his voice dropping to a horrified whisper. "We're not robbing, we're redistributing wealth from spoiled brats," Molly said, not looking up from the newsletter. "Those kids won't even remember what they got." "This feels ethically murky, even for us," Bill said, fidgeting with his ski mask. "My mother will be so disappointed." "Ethically murky is our brand, Bill. Besides, do you know how much unopened Bluey merchandise goes for online? We could finally fix the van's brakes," Molly said, folding the newsletter into a perfect square. Bill sighed and pulled his ski mask down, though it was eighty degrees outside. Molly had already procured disguises. Two adult-sized mascot costumes lay in the back of the van. One was a deflated giraffe, the other a lopsided bear with one ear missing. "So I have to be the giraffe again?" Bill asked, holding up the sweaty costume. "You're too tall to be the bear and the bear smells like cheese, so yes, you're the giraffe," Molly said, tossing him the giraffe head. Their plan was flawlessly stupid. At two fifteen, during the musical chairs distraction, Bill would inflate the bouncy castle to maximum wobble and cause a diversion. Molly, in the bear suit, would waddle to the present table, load the gifts into a laundry bag labeled COSTUME STORAGE, and waddle out like she belonged. "What if the clown sees us? He looks serious," Bill asked, peering at the clown's giant red shoes. "Clowns never see anything, they're too busy being terrifying and making balloon animals," Molly said, zipping up her bear suit. "What about the parents? There will be parents with phones filming everything," Bill said, his giraffe neck already wilting. "Parents at kids parties are too exhausted to notice a felony. They'll think we're hired entertainment and tip us," Molly said, practicing her bear waddle. A distant chorus of children singing Happy Birthday floated over the fence. Molly checked her watch, pulled her bear head on, and gave Bill a firm pat on his long, spotted rump. It was time to steal joy, literally.