Run: 2026-03-03-01KJTZ9KK59WKW1JGAVFSFN1RE

Crouched behind an overgrown rose bush at the edge of the Miller backyard, Molly plucked a crumpled cupcake wrapper from Bill’s flannel sleeve as a high-pitched shriek of piñata-induced glee washed over the wooden fence. A neon pink party crown, swiped from a favor bin ten minutes prior, slipped down over one of Bill’s eyes, and he clutched a reusable gift bag so tight his knuckles blanched. “Molls, have you seen a toddler hauling a present bigger than their own head? What if we waste the op chasing cheap toys instead of big-ticket stuff?” Bill whispered, voice squeaking like a party horn. “Relax, I mapped the patio gift stack last night when you bailed on stakeout for corn dogs. All velvet-bow wrapped gifts? That’s the good stuff. Moms are herding kids for cake right now, no one’s watching the loot.” “Stakeout! You sat in your car staring through their kitchen window for an hour while I waited at the gas station eating a slushie that gave me brain freeze? Last week I got banned from the community center for swiping bouncy balls—you want me kicked out of a kids’ party?” “Wait, what if the birthday kid wails when we take his presents? His mom’ll scream, and the clown’ll unicycle right into me!” Bill yelped, yanking the crown back into place. “Stick to the script, none of that happens,” Molly sighed, tapping the fake glitter bomb tucked in her hoodie pocket. “I’ll wave it over by the grill, Misty the clown will do her unicycle balloon routine. Everyone’ll look, including the birthday boy—he nailed the neighbor’s cat with a piñata stick last month.” “Wait, the clown’s a real paid employee? I thought that was just Linda smearing face paint! What if she recognizes me? I knocked over her face paint table at the block party last month!” “You won’t get recognized, you wore a different hoodie then,” Molly corrected, nudging him with her elbow. “Dart the second I wave the bomb, grab all the velvet-bow gifts, stuff ‘em in the bag, haul ass to the van. No cotton candy, no sticker favors, no petting the birthday dog.” “You knew I wanted blue raspberry cotton candy!” Bill protested, ears pink under the crown. “Forget the cotton candy. Plan’s non-negotiable.” Molly primed the glitter bomb’s plastic pin. “3… 2… 1—”