Run: 2026-02-24-01KJ8W70NJ99ACQ3B353QMJD79

Molly spread the crayon-drawn map across the hood of their battered van, smoothing out the corners with the kind of reverence usually reserved for ancient treasure charts. The map, borrowed from a seven-year-old cousin without his knowledge, featured a house surrounded by what appeared to be either guard dogs or aggressive balloons. Bill squinted at it, chewing the end of a plastic straw. The target was a birthday party for one Timothy Henderson, age six, whose parents had apparently invited every child within a five-mile radius and received enough wrapped presents to stock a toy store. Molly had conducted her reconnaissance sitting in a parked car, wearing oversized sunglasses and eating a bag of pretzels with tremendous professionalism. "The bouncy castle is our blind spot," Molly said, tapping the map. "Brilliant. I'll wear the full clown suit. Nobody ever questions a clown anyway," said Bill. The plan was elegant in its absurdity. They would arrive during the cake ceremony, when every adult eye would be fixed on Timothy annihilating a fondant dinosaur. The presents, piled in an unsupervised hallway, would be loaded into the van in four minutes. Molly had timed it using a stopwatch shaped like a rubber duck.