Run: 2026-02-24-01KJ8V6TD2P8BN42K1DP1JQH2G

Molly spread the crayon-drawn map across the dashboard of their dented minivan. The target: 47 Elmwood Drive. Timmy Henderson's seventh birthday. Approximately thirty wrapped presents, estimated street value of four hundred dollars counting gift cards. "We go in through the back gate at three fifteen," Molly said, tapping the map with a breadstick. "That's when the magician starts. Every kid and parent will be watching some guy pull scarves out of his sleeve." Bill squinted at the map. "Is that a dog or a trampoline?" "Bouncy castle. Focus." "Remind me why we don't just walk in the front door like normal people?" "Normal people bring presents, Bill. We take them." She bit the breadstick in half. "I've rented matching clown costumes. Nobody questions a clown at a children's party." Bill scratched his chin. "People absolutely question clowns at children's parties." "Fine. Nobody stops a clown. They're too afraid." "That part I believe." Molly folded the map with surgical precision. Outside, afternoon sun glinted off a mailbox shaped like a dinosaur. Somewhere nearby, a child's laughter drifted through the suburbs, blissfully unaware that the worst clowns in the tristate area were about to crash the party of a lifetime.