Run: 2026-03-06-01KK1H7MW423R663GG6XP50971

Molly crouched behind the garden shed, peering through a crack in the fence at the battlefield of pastel balloons, wobbling paper hats, and one alarming clown arranging cupcakes like land mines. The children shrieked with the ecstatic lawlessness of tiny tyrants. At the center of the lawn stood the prize: a banquet table stacked with presents in glossy towers, every ribbon catching the sun like a dare. Bill adjusted his black turtleneck, which in daylight made him look less like a master criminal and more like a substitute drama teacher in distress. Beside him lay their equipment: a coil of rope, a torch, two pillowcases, and a fake pony head Molly insisted was “for blending in.” “Tell me again,” Bill whispered, “why we’re robbing a six-year-old?” “Because,” Molly said, checking her watch with professional gravity, “children have no concept of perimeter security.” A magician stumbled past the hedge, sneezing glitter. Bill flinched. “We go in during the cake song, grab the lot, and vanish through the bouncy castle.” “That sentence contains three ways to die.” Molly grinned and pulled the pony head over Bill’s face. Through the eyeholes he watched a child in a pirate costume body-slam another near the jelly. For a moment, even he had to admit it: chaos was the perfect accomplice.