Run: 2026-10-27-01M5YGZVYCECQ1BVJFGBTPFY3Y

Molly spread the blueprint across Bill’s kitchen table, weighing down one corner with a rubber duck and the other with Bill’s breakfast. Bill leaned closer. “Why is the bouncy castle labelled ‘escape route’?” “Because ‘getaway car’ sounded suspicious when I ordered it.” “You ordered a getaway bouncy castle?” “With a slide. We’re not animals.” Bill moved his toast before it absorbed the ink. “Remind me why we’re robbing a six-year-old.” “Not a six-year-old. A six-year-old’s party. There’s a difference.” “Legally?” “Morally. Possibly. Look, Freddie’s birthday is themed ‘Space Pirates.’ His parents have hired a magician, a bubbleologist, and a man who makes balloon animals for investment bankers. Those presents will be quality.” “What if they’re all socks?” “Then we open a sock shop and retire.” Bill tapped the drawing. “And this stick figure with the enormous head?” “That’s you.” “Why is my head enormous?” “Because you’ll be wearing the dinosaur costume.” “No.” “It’s the only way past security.” “Security is a grandmother with a sausage roll.” “Exactly. Terrifying woman. She caught me trying to steal a vol-au-vent at a christening and made me eat three as punishment.” Bill studied the plan again. “Fine. I’m a dinosaur. You’re what?” “A children’s entertainer.” “You hate children.” “I hate loud children. Quiet children with expensive gifts are delightful.” “What’s your act?” “Juggling.” “You can’t juggle.” “Neither can most children’s entertainers. That’s why they learn magic words.” Molly handed him a list. Bill read it aloud. “Cake. Presents. Bubble machine. Dignity. Why is dignity on the list?” “Cross that out. We lost that at the christening.” “And how do we carry forty presents?” “In the dinosaur.” Bill stared at her. “The costume has a pouch,” Molly said. “For dinosaur eggs?” “For stolen Lego. Try to keep up.” Bill circled the table, examining the plan from several angles, as though crime might improve upside down. Molly capped her pen. Outside, a car alarm hooted, stopped, then restarted with less confidence. “Do I get a code name?” “Mr. Roar.” “That’s awful.” “So was your last haircut. We survived.” Bill nodded, accepting this as the closest reassurance. He picked up the rubber duck, squeezed it, and yelped when it produced an elegant middle C. “Even the duck’s judging me.” “Only because you’re squeezing its dignity.” “And if someone asks why a dinosaur is laying boxed toys?” “You roar. Confidence, Bill. Nobody questions a confident dinosaur.” A timer dinged. Molly removed a tray of biscuits from the oven, each shaped like a tiny present. Bill took one. “What about the magician?” “Distract him.” “How?” “Ask him to explain the trick.” “That’s cruel.” “He’ll be busy for hours. Meanwhile, I gather the gifts, you inflate the castle, and we bounce over the back fence.” “You can’t bounce over a fence.” “Not with that attitude.” Bill sighed and bit into a biscuit. “When do we start?” Molly checked her watch. “Party’s at two. We arrive at one-thirty.” “Why so early?” “Face painting.” Bill blinked. “We’re thieves.” “And I want whiskers.”