Run: 2026-09-10-01M25DZK83YT4J5D5DP19FDDW7

Molly peered through binoculars at the community center, where a banner reading Pippa Turns Seven! drooped in the heat. Beside her, Bill unfolded a napkin covered in crayon arrows. The van smelled like old balloons and bad decisions. "Remind me why we're robbing a children's party," Molly said. "Because last week you said we needed a big score, and nothing says big score like forty toddlers and a mountain of presents." "Toddlers are not a security system." "Wrong. They're worse. They're unpredictable. One bit me at a Chuck E. Cheese." "You were dressed as the mouse." Molly lowered the binoculars. "What's the plan?" Bill tapped the napkin. "We go in as entertainment. I'm Bongo the Balloon Guy. You're my assistant, Sparkle." "I will not be Sparkle." "Then you're the party mom. Yoga pants, giant purse, vague threat of gluten-free cupcakes." "I'm a cat burglar, not a lovely assistant." Molly checked her lock picks. "And you?" "I make balloon swords. I start a duel. While kids are stabbing each other with latex, you sweep the present table by the bouncy castle." "The bouncy castle?" "It's the perfect getaway vehicle." "It's inflatable." "Which means it's soft. No one suspects a soft getaway vehicle." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. "What if a kid sees us?" "We give them a decoy present. A lump of coal. Educational." "And the real presents?" "We load them into the bouncy castle, deflate it, roll it out the fire exit." "You want to steal a bouncy castle full of presents." "It's called a mobile evidence bag." "It's called a felony with a slide." "A felony with a slide and a ball pit. We can sell the ball pit to a guy I know who runs an underground ball pit." Molly looked at the party. A piñata shaped like a llama hung from a tree. "What about the piñata?" "Too obvious. Everyone watches the piñata." "So we leave it?" "We leave it. We're professionals." "Professionals don't rob birthday parties." "Professionals rob whatever has the best gift-to-security ratio. This party has artisanal wooden toys, gift cards, and at least three iPads. One for each grandma. Divorced parents. Guilt spending." "What about the cake?" "We don't touch the cake." "Why not?" "Because cake is sacred. You steal cake, you deserve prison." "But we're stealing iPads." "iPads don't have feelings. Cake has sprinkles." Molly nodded slowly. "Okay. But if I get tackled by a seven-year-old in a princess dress, I'm telling the cops you're Bongo." "Deal. Now put on the sparkle vest." Molly stared at the vest. It was covered in sequins and tiny plastic stars. Somewhere inside the community center, children screamed with joy. Bill smiled like a man who had never been bitten by a toddler. She picked up the vest. A sequin fell off. Bill pretended not to notice. Outside, a minivan full of grandparents pulled up, tires crunching gravel. Somewhere, a clown wept. Molly put on the vest. "I hate you," Molly said. "That's the spirit."