Run: 2026-02-24-01KJ8V033JWQB6HEK6G6HMRFCX

Molly spread the hand-drawn map across the hood of their rusted van, squinting at crayon-colored stick figures and what appeared to be a bouncy castle rendered in aggressive purple. Bill leaned over her shoulder, breathing heavily through his mouth like a man who had never encountered fresh air and found the whole concept suspicious. "So we go in through the back gate at three," Molly whispered. Bill nodded, adjusting his ski mask, which he had already put on despite the fact that they were parked outside a grocery store in broad daylight. Two elderly women had already called the police, but neither thief had noticed. The party was at the Henderson residence, a modest suburban home defended by nothing more than a picket fence and a golden retriever named Sprinkles. Molly had done reconnaissance for three days, which mostly involved eating ice cream in her car and watching six-year-olds practice soccer. "What about the clown?" Bill asked. "We neutralize the clown first." Bill swallowed hard. He had a terrible thing about clowns. Molly knew this perfectly well. She was already enjoying herself. The presents, wrapped in glittering paper and piled high on a folding table, would be theirs by sundown.