Run: 2026-10-20-01M5C6G4TNSBC92QYTWQRR3Y51

"Okay, Bill, walk me through it again, but pretend you're not allergic to competence," Molly said. "The clown suit gets us past security," Bill said. "I juggle, you do balloon animals, and when the piñata explodes, we swap the presents for sandbags." "Security is a nine-year-old named Trevor with a whistle." "Trevor's corrupt. I bribed him with a juice box." "That's depressing." "Capitalism is depressing. Focus. You take the left gift table, I take the right." "What about the birthday boy?" "He gets a decoy present. A lovely, empty box." "We're monsters." "We're entrepreneurs. There's cake, a magician, and forty toddlers on a sugar high. Noise covers everything." "What if the magician sees us?" "He's doing the vanishing trick. Very cooperative." "And the parents?" "Discussing quinoa. We have six minutes." "Six minutes to steal thirty presents?" "Four if I hit the piñata too hard." "Bill, if this goes wrong, I'm blaming the clown suit." "Fair. But if it goes right, we're rich and emotionally scarred." Molly tapped the table. "And if Trevor talks?" Bill shrugged. "No one believes a kid with juice on his shirt." Bill unfolded a crumpled clown map. "Agreed. Bring extra juice boxes." Molly checked her watch. "Then move. The cake's already sweating."