Run: 2026-02-18-01KHQ93WQ7DW2GP7MKYD12BC5W

The rain tapped against the foggy window of the van like an impatient child waiting for cake. Molly spread the hand-drawn map across the dashboard, her flashlight illuminating what appeared to be a crude drawing of a house surrounded by what she hoped were balloons and not explosions. "Right," she said, clicking her pen with professional authority. "The birthday party starts at two. The presents will be piled in the living room, near the window on the east side." Bill squinted at the map. "Why have you drawn the birthday cake with a skull on it?" "That's a candle, Bill." "It has eye sockets." "It's artistic. Focus." Molly tapped the paper firmly. "We go in through the side gate during the musical chairs round. Everyone will be distracted." Bill pulled his black beanie down over his ears and peered through the windshield at the cheerful house across the street. Streamers in pink and yellow hung from the porch, and a banner screamed HAPPY BIRTHDAY EMMA in letters large enough to be read from space. "I still don't feel great about this," he said. "You didn't feel great about the cheese shop job either, and we walked away with fourteen wheels of Gouda." "The Gouda didn't stare at me with big sad eyes." Molly lowered her flashlight. "The children will not be staring at you, Bill. They will be playing musical chairs, as previously established." "What if one of them wanders off? Kids do that. They're like confused little pigeons." "Then you distract them." Molly handed him a balloon animal she had pre-twisted into the vague shape of a dog, or possibly a submarine. "You give them this and move along." Bill held it up and rotated it slowly. "What is it?" "It's a poodle." "It looks like a very stressed pretzel." "Children have low standards. That's actually one of the few advantages we have today." Molly rolled up the map with crisp efficiency and tucked it into her vest pocket. "Now listen. We get in, we load the presents into the bags, and we're back in this van before they finish singing Happy Birthday. Clean, simple, professional." Bill was quiet for a moment, watching a clown arrive at the front door and get enthusiastically welcomed inside. "There's a clown in there now." "Irrelevant." "Clowns notice things." "Clowns absolutely do not notice things. Their entire professional existence is built around chaos and distraction." Molly checked her watch. "That clown is our greatest ally today and he doesn't even know it." Bill nodded slowly, trying to absorb her logic like a sponge that wasn't entirely convinced about the water. He tucked the balloon poodle into his jacket pocket, where it made a sound like a small, defeated squeak. "Ready?" Molly asked. "Not even slightly," Bill said. "Excellent," she said, and opened the van door.