Run: 2026-09-10-01M25DQ579KNQC45PWHN3APQAD

Molly lowered the binoculars. "Okay, Bill, walk me through it again." Bill wiped Cheeto dust on his trousers. "We enter as entertainers." "Entertainers?" "Clowns." "You hate clowns." "I hate children more." Molly sighed. "This is a birthday party, not a bank." "Exactly. No armed guards. Just a piñata and thirty tiny witnesses." "Witnesses who can identify us." "They can barely identify their own elbows." "Bill, they have phones." "So do we. We'll wear masks." "Clown masks?" "Happy clown masks. The kind that say I definitely won't steal your Lego set." Molly rubbed her temples. "And the presents?" Bill unfolded a crayon drawing of the party. "Phase one, we distract them with balloon animals. Phase two, I do a magic trick. Phase three, while they're applauding, you load the presents into the bouncy castle." "The bouncy castle?" "It's inflatable. It's basically a get-away vehicle." "It's tethered to the ground by stakes." "Minor detail." Molly stared at him. "What about the parents?" "Phase four." "There is no phase four." "There's always a phase four." "Enlighten me." Bill grinned. "We tell them we're from the party planning committee and the gifts need to be inspected for safety hazards." "That is the worst lie I've ever heard." "Thank you." "It wasn't a compliment." "It never is." Molly checked the window. "There are at least six adults. One is wearing a shirt that says World's Best Dad. He looks alert." "That's just the shirt. He's probably exhausted." "And the birthday boy?" "Timmy. Seven. Allergic to peanuts, bees, and consequences." "So we're robbing a child." "We're liberating a mountain of poorly wrapped toys from a capitalist gift economy." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. "You practiced that line." "I practiced it in the mirror." "Of course you did." Bill tapped the drawing. "Now, the key is timing. When they sing, we strike." "During Happy Birthday?" "Right after the candles. Everyone's emotional. Nobody watches the presents." "And if Timmy cries?" "We give him a consolation prize." "One of his own presents?" "See? You're learning." Molly shook her head. "I want thirty percent." "Twenty." "Thirty, or I tell the World's Best Dad about phase four." Bill winced. "Fine. Thirty. But you're handling the balloon animals." "I don't know how to make balloon animals." "Neither do I. That's why it's a distraction." Molly looked at the party again. "You know, we could just rob a jewelry store." "And miss all this cake?" She sighed. "Fine. But if a clown gets involved, I'm leaving." Bill nodded solemnly. "Deal. No clowns. Except us." "Except us." Molly zipped her jacket. "One more thing. How do we get the presents out?" Bill pointed at a wheelbarrow. "The cake cart." "That's for cake." "Not after we empty it." "It has a wobbly wheel." "So do I." Molly frowned. "And the guest list? There's a bouncer at the gate." "That's a face painter named Kevin." "He looks muscular." "He's holding a brush." "Brushes can be weapons." "So can cake forks. We'll improvise." Molly checked her watch. "We go in ten minutes." Bill clapped. "Remember, Molly, confidence is key." "Confidence and a fake mustache?" "Exactly. The mustache is non-negotiable."