Run: 2026-09-03-01M1K57HX9AF47A7QG28M8SP32

The van smelled like old french fries and desperation. Molly had parked two houses down from the bouncy castle, binoculars glued to her face while Bill tried to fold a pirate costume into a diaper bag. "Okay, walk me through the plan again," Bill said. "We steal presents from a five-year-old's birthday party?" "Not just any five-year-old," Molly replied. "Timmy Henderson. His dad is Henderson the diamond guy. The presents are going to be insane. We're talking solid gold Lego sets." "Gold Legos? Is that a thing?" "It is when your dad mines diamonds for a living. Look, there's already a pile the size of a small car in the living room." Bill squinted through the windshield at the suburban house. Balloons bobbed against the windows and a clown was making a poodle. "So what's the entry strategy?" Bill asked. "We can't just walk in." "That's why we have costumes," Molly said, holding up a sparkly tutu. "You're Princess Sparkle-Butt. I'm the clown's assistant." "I am not wearing a tutu. I look ridiculous in pink." "You looked ridiculous robbing that bank in a chicken suit but you did it." "That was different. Chickens are intimidating. Princesses are not." Molly tossed the tutu into his lap. A minivan pulled up and more screaming kids poured onto the lawn. "Listen, it's perfect," Molly whispered. "We go in, we entertain, we wait for cake, and when they sing happy birthday we grab the loot and vanish. Classic misdirection." "What about the parents? There's like twenty of them in there." "Parents at a kids party are basically zombies. They haven't slept in five years. They won't notice two extra adults." Bill wrestled with the tutu, getting one leg stuck in the tulle. "Okay, suppose we get the presents. How do we get out? Those kids are feral. That one just bit the clown." "That's our exit plan," Molly grinned. "We start a game of musical chairs, crank the chaos to eleven, and wheel the present table out the back while they're fighting over a plastic chair." "And if the birthday boy cries?" "Then we cry louder. No one questions a crying princess." Bill finally stood, tutu quivering, tiara crooked. Molly adjusted her oversized red nose. "Last chance to back out, Princess," Molly said. "Are you kidding? I'm committed now. I paid eight bucks for this tiara." "You know this is the dumbest heist we've ever done," Bill muttered. "Please, the aquarium job was dumber," Molly shot back. "You tried to steal a penguin and it stole your wallet." "Yeah well at least penguins can't call the cops," Bill hissed. "Those moms can. Have you seen that mom with the clipboard? She looks like she runs the PTA with an iron fist." "Relax, clipboard mom is already on her third juice box," Molly laughed. "She'll be out cold by presents." "After you, Princess," Molly bowed. The doorbell rang. They opened the van doors and marched toward the house as the clown's balloon poodle popped loudly.