Run: 2026-09-23-01M36WSRVGYPD8K5YAYW6CAVZW

Molly unfolded the party invitation across the kitchen table like a general surveying a battlefield. Pink and purple glitter cascaded onto the wood. She smoothed it flat and tapped the address with her pencil. "Okay, listen up. Olivia Carmichael's seventh birthday. Saturday at three. Pony rides, bounce house, and the big one—a sundae bar." Bill leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "A sundae bar. We're cracking into a sundae bar now?" "No, you walnut. We're cracking into the present pile." Molly pulled out a hand-drawn diagram of the Carmichael backyard. "Mom collects everything at the gift table by the patio. Last year she drew up a seat chart with a little map. I still have it." "Why do you have a seating chart from a six-year-old's birthday party?" "I'm thorough." "That's terrifying, Molly." She jabbed the pencil at the diagram. "The gift table sits right beside the back gate. One kid vaults the fence, grabs the bags, and bolts to the van. We're talking loot from thirty families. Tablets, bikes, cash envelopes from grandparents who don't know what to buy anymore. We could clear three grand easy." Bill scratched his jaw. "So the plan is to rob a children's birthday party." "The plan is to rob a bunch of gifts that children will lose interest in by Wednesday. We're doing them a favor. Do you know what happens to toys after day three? Landfill. I'm an environmentalist." "You once told a recycling center worker to go pound sand because he wouldn't take a hot tub." "The hot tub was recyclable and he was wrong." Molly pulled out a floorplan of the front of the house. "Here's the distraction. I hire a clown." Bill stood up. "Absolutely not." "It's genius. The clown keeps everyone in the backyard watching balloon animals while you slip around the side and out with the goods. Nobody notices until the cake is cut and they go to open presents." "And then a bunch of second-graders cry and we're the most hated criminals in the county." "Second-graders recover fast. Trust me." She slid a folder across the table. "I already talked to a clown. Goes by Big Dandy. He does both magic and comedy." "That's never the sign of a good clown." "He comes highly rated." "By whom?" "Online reviews." Bill opened the folder and winced. "His website is just Comic Sans and a photo of him crying. Why is he crying in the photo?" "Artistic." Bill dropped the folder and stared at her. "I want it on record that I think this is the worst idea you've ever had, and you once tried to tunnel into a bank through a pet cemetery." "That tunnel would have worked." Molly stood and extended her hand across the table. "So are we doing this or are you going to let a party full of children outsmart you?" Bill looked at her hand. He looked at the diagram. He looked at the folder. "Big Dandy gets no share." "Deal."