Run: 2026-09-10-01M25DR4N1P4WWK3K96DR6TV3Z

"Bill, walk me through the plan again," Molly said, adjusting the tiny party hat she'd stolen from a clown. "Because last time you said 'trust me' and I ended up in a bouncy castle with a warrant." "That was a tactical bounce," Bill said. "This is simpler. We infiltrate the Wigglesworth twins' seventh birthday, locate the present pile, and extract every wrapped box before Pin the Tail on the Donkey concludes." "Extract how? There are forty parents, a magician, and a petting zoo." "The magician's a distraction. I hired him." "You hired a magician for a heist?" "I hired him to be terrible. He'll make a rabbit disappear and then cry. Nobody watches presents when a grown man is weeping into a top hat." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. "And the petting zoo?" "Goats are indifferent to crime. I checked." "You checked?" "I asked one. He ate my notebook. That's a yes." "Okay. Entry?" "Back gate. I've got a clipboard that says I'm from Party Compliance." "Party Compliance isn't a thing." "It is now. I laminated it." "Of course you did. What about the kids?" "Kids are easy. They're small, loud, and easily bribed with sugar. We toss a handful of jelly beans into the ball pit and they swarm like piranhas in party hats." "That's monstrous." "It's efficient. Besides, we're not stealing from kids. We're stealing from the concept of kids' birthday parties. Which is, frankly, a public service." "The concept has a receipt. And a registry." "Which we will also steal." Molly sighed. "Let's suppose we get to the presents. There's a mountain of them." "Pyramid. I've seen the photos. Thirty-seven presents. Two bicycles, one drone, a chemistry set, and what I believe is a pony." "A pony isn't a present." "It's in a bow. It's a present." "How do we get a pony out the back gate?" "Very quietly. And with carrots." "Bill." "Fine, we skip the pony. But we take the drone." "The drone is for a seven-year-old." "And now it's for a forty-two-year-old criminal mastermind." "You're thirty-six." "I rounded up. Dignity." Molly leaned in. "What about the clown?" "Which clown?" "The one who's been staring at us from the shrubbery." Bill turned slowly. "That's not a clown. That's my ex-wife." "Is she a problem?" "Only if she recognizes me. And if she recognizes you." "Why would she recognize me?" "Because you're wearing her party hat." Molly removed the hat. "New plan. We go in, we take the presents, we blame the magician." "Now you're thinking like a professional." "And we leave the pony." "Agreed. Ponies have lawyers." "Wait," Molly said. "What about the cake?" "We leave it. It's probably gluten-free." "You're a monster." "A monster with a drone." "And a clipboard," Bill said. "Don't forget the clipboard." "Party Compliance," Molly muttered. "I hate this job." They shook hands. Then the clown in the shrubbery coughed and said, "I heard everything. I want thirty percent." Bill looked at Molly. "See? This is why I hate children's parties."