Run: 2026-09-03-01M1KBQ02S1H9MSFP6ZHGP1XWT

The apartment smelled like burnt microwave popcorn and regret. Molly was hunched over the kitchen table, tracing a crayon drawing of a unicorn with a butter knife. Bill was trying to remove a wad of pink bubblegum from the sole of his loafer with a fork. “This is a new low, Mol.” “It’s not a low. It’s a diversification of assets.” “It’s a bouncy castle, Bill. I haven’t been in one of those since my cousin’s communion.” “Exactly. No one expects grown adults in there. It’s the perfect cover.” “Are we hiding in the bouncy castle?” “We might have to.” “I don’t know if my knees can handle that.” “Your knees will handle a thousand dollars in unopened Legos.” Bill stopped attacking the gum and stared. “A thousand dollars?” “Easily. This is Westport. These parents don’t buy little Tommy a twelve-dollar action figure. They buy a six-hundred-dollar ride-on tractor with a real cup holder.” “We could sell that for half.” “Quarter. But still.” Bill scratched his chin. “So we just walk in? ‘Hi, we’re here for the clown simulator’?” “No, we go as the entertainment.” “Which is what?” “A magician and his lovely assistant.” Bill blinked. “I’m not wearing sequins.” “You’re the magician. I’m the assistant. I’ll wear sequins. You just need a cape and a top hat.” “Where do we get a top hat?” “Party City. They don’t ask questions.” “They literally ask if you want to add balloons.” “So we add balloons. It’s a distraction. You’re overthinking this, Bill.” “I’m not overthinking. I’m under-thinking. That’s the problem.” Molly set down the butter knife. “Look. Here’s the play. We show up twenty minutes after the party starts. The parents are already exhausted. The kids are screaming. Nobody checks your ID.” “Except the birthday mom who hired a magician two months ago and knows we’re not him.” “So we say the original magician got salmonella. We’re the backup.” “And she just believes that?” “She will when I pull a rabbit out of the birthday girl’s ear.” “We don’t have a rabbit.” “We have a hamster. Same energy. Smaller ears.” Bill groaned and dropped the fork. “This plan has more holes than my last alibi.” “My last alibi kept you out of jail.” “That’s because the cop had allergies and couldn’t stop sneezing long enough to write me up.” “Preparation, Bill.” “That wasn’t preparation, that was luck and a ragweed bloom.” “Fine. What’s your big idea?” “Don’t go to the party. Wait until it’s over. Break into the house at two in the morning.” “And steal what? Leftover cake and a half-deflated balloon?” “And the presents. They leave them in the living room. Kids don’t open gifts until the next day.” Molly considered this. “That’s boring.” “Boring is profitable. Boring gets you out before the sun comes up.” “But we don’t get any cake.” “We can buy our own cake.” “Not with a thousand dollars in Legos, Bill. Then we can buy a yacht made of cake.” “That’s not a real thing.” “It is if you dream big.” Bill sighed and looked at the crayon drawing again. “If I agree to the bouncy castle, do I have to do balloon animals?” “Only if they tip.” “Kids don’t tip.” “Then just pull the hamster out and run for the gifts.” “This is the worst idea I’ve ever agreed to.” “That’s the spirit, partner.”