Run: 2026-02-24-01KJ8V7YVX28Y1TABQGHPBS2NN

Molly spread the hand-drawn map across the hood of their battered van, carefully smoothing out the crayon marks she had made during three days of meticulous and largely cold surveillance. "The bouncy castle goes up at noon," she said, tapping the map with a stubby finger. "That's when we move." Bill squinted suspiciously at the drawing. "Is that supposed to be a fence or a rainbow?" "It's a fence, Bill." "Why is it purple?" "Because I ran out of brown." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose hard. "Focus. Twelve kids, minimum. All the presents will be stacked by the garden bench while the parents are distracted by the birthday song." Bill stroked his chin thoughtfully, which always made him look vaguely wise despite never actually being so. "What about the clown?" "The clown is our problem to worry about," Molly admitted grimly. "I really don't like clowns, Molly." "Nobody likes clowns, Bill. That's precisely what makes them so dangerous." She rolled up the map decisively. "We go in during musical chairs. Nobody ever pays attention during musical chairs." Bill nodded slowly, a rare smile spreading across his weathered face. "Genius."