Run: 2026-02-24-01KJ8WKMHFY95Q7FQD1Q03CFQ2

The warehouse loft smelled of dust and discarded ambition. Molly, peering through binoculars from their makeshift observation post, lowered them with a sigh. “Target is a six-year-old named Timmy. Birthday party, Saturday, three PM. Backyard of the Henderson residence.” Bill, meticulously sketching on a whiteboard, didn’t look up. “Security?” “Formidable. A hyper-vigilant mother, one sleep-deprived father, and twelve sugar-fueled minors. The cake is a chocolate volcano.” “Weapons?” “Squeaky hammers. Possibly a foam sword.” Molly tossed a grainy photo onto the table. “Primary obstacle: a golden retriever named Biscuit. Affectionate, not aggressive. Likely to compromise our position with licks.” Bill finally turned, his face grave. “Licks are a wild card. Unpredictable. We’ll need a distraction.” He tapped the whiteboard, which displayed a detailed schematic of a suburban backyard. “Phase One: Infiltration. We pose as clowns from ‘Happy Hank’s Party Pandemonium.’ Hank is currently… detained.” “You shoved him in a locker, didn’t you?” “A utility closet. He’ll be fine after the helium wears off.” Bill pointed to a drawing of a present stack. “Phase Two: Acquisition. During the peak chaos of the piñata assault, we switch the real presents with these.” He gestured to a duffel bag. Molly unzipped it to reveal identically wrapped boxes. She lifted one. It was suspiciously light. “What’s in these?” “Coal. Well, painted rocks. It’s symbolic. The switch will be clean. They won’t notice until we’re exfiltrating via the bounce house.” Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. “The bounce house. Your escape vector is an inflatable castle.” “It’s adjacent to the fence line! A well-placed bounce provides the vertical lift needed to clear the six-foot barrier. It’s elegant.” “It’s deranged. What about the payload? What are we even looking at? Action figures? Building blocks?” Bill consulted his notes. “Intel suggests a high-end tablet, a junior archaeology kit, and a disturbing number of gift cards. The big score is a limited-edition, talking ‘Captain Starfighter’ doll. It’s the crown jewel of this entire operation.” “A doll. We’re risking a felony for a doll that says ‘To infinity and slightly beyond!’” “It’s the principle, Molly! The take is clean, untraceable. Who’s going to suspect two clowns? We melt into the suburban tapestry, vanish before the first tearful child realizes their new soccer ball is a painted rock.” Molly stared at the photo of little Timmy, mid-giggle, oblivious to the impending criminal enterprise. “I just… I have standards. We stole the Crown Jewels of Liechtenstein.” “And we almost got pecked to death by the ceremonial swans,” Bill reminded her. “This is a softer target. Lower stakes.” “Higher chance of being vomited on by a child who ate too much cake.” “A risk we mitigate with the clown costume’s non-porous polymer coating.” Bill offered her a red foam nose. “So? Are you in?” Molly took the nose, giving it a melancholy squeeze. It honked softly. “The things we do for retirement.”