Run: 2026-09-03-01M1KBKEWF84WK242B640PAZDN

Molly spread the blueprints across the coffee table, which was sticky with last night's pizza. “Okay, Bill, focus. The Johnson residence. Saturday, 2 PM. It’s a ‘Princess Aurora’ themed bash for a six-year-old named Chloe.” Bill squinted at the paper. “Why are there little drawings of crowns on the floor plan?” “Those are the present tables,” Molly said, tapping a finger. “There are three. Estimated haul: forty to fifty gifts. Conservative retail value, eight hundred bucks. More if the other kids are loaded.” “We’re stealing from children,” Bill said, leaning back. “I’ve done a lot of shady stuff, but this feels like a new low. Or a new high. I can’t tell.” “It’s a victimless crime,” Molly said. “The parents bought the gifts. The kid gets new stuff anyway. We’re just redistributing wealth to our own pockets.” “So, what’s the plan? We dress up as princesses?” “Don’t be stupid. We’re going in as the hired entertainment. I’ve got a friend who does balloon animals. She’s out of town. I’m using her name.” Bill raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to do balloon animals?” “No. I’m going to do balloon *theft*. While I ‘make’ a balloon giraffe that looks like a deflated lung, you sneak around the back and collect the presents. We use the party gift bags as decoy bags. No one notices a man carrying gifts at a gift-heavy event.” “And the parents?” “The parents are going to be hammered on mimosas. It’s a Saturday afternoon party for a six-year-old. Trust me, there’s a mimosa bar.” Bill rubbed his chin. “What about the birthday girl? She’s going to notice her presents vanishing.” “She’ll be too busy screaming about the bouncy castle. We have a forty-minute window before cake. By the time they open gifts, we’re long gone.” “And if we get caught?” “We don’t get caught. I’ve got a cover story. I’m ‘Aunt Carol’ from Spokane. You’re my driver. We’re just helping clean up.” “I hate this,” Bill said. “I hate that it’s a good plan. I hate that I’m excited. I really hate that I’m going to have to carry a bag full of Frozen-themed merchandise.” “You’ll live. Now, the exit strategy. The backyard has a side gate that leads to the alley. The fence is six feet, but there’s a plastic slide we can use as a ramp.” “A plastic slide? For a getaway? That’s not stealthy. That’s a scream.” “It’s a *toy* slide. It’s silent. You just have to remove the princess stickers first. They crinkle.” Bill sighed. “Fine. What time do we hit the party?” “We arrive at 1:45. I’ll introduce myself to the mom. You’ll be ‘Frank,’ my cousin. You’ll complain about your back, so you don’t have to play any games. You’re also allergic to glitter, so you stay away from the craft table.” “I’m not allergic to glitter,” Bill said. “You are today. It’s the perfect excuse to keep your hands in your pockets and your eyes on the presents.” Bill stared at the blueprint. “And if the party has a clown instead of a princess?” “Then I’m the clown’s assistant. I’ll say the original performer had a family emergency. I’m his understudy. But I’m not doing face paint. That’s a liability.” “You know what, Molly? This might be the dumbest thing we’ve ever done. And I’m in.” Molly grinned. “That’s the spirit. Now, let’s go to the party store. We need to buy a tiara for me and a fanny pack for you.” “Why a fanny pack?” “For the gift cards. We’re not leaving those behind.”