Run: 2026-03-06-01KK1HW4J5TSWH7ZXQTD1KGQMA

Molly crouched behind the hedge, studying balloons bobbing over the garden fence like brightly colored security cameras. Bill adjusted his flat cap and peered through a gap in the leaves at the chaos beyond: shrieking children, a clown folding swords, and a mountain of presents stacked beside the cake table. “Tell me again,” Bill whispered, “why we’re robbing a birthday party and not, say, a bank?” “Because banks have guards,” Molly said. “This place has juice boxes and a magician with asthma.” “I don’t like the clown.” “The clown is irrelevant.” “No clown is ever irrelevant.” A paper hat sailed over the fence and landed on Bill’s shoe. Molly snatched it up, dusted it off, and jammed it onto his head. “There,” she said. “Blend in.” “I look like a depressed cupcake.” “Perfect. Now listen. You distract the parents.” “How?” “Cry.” “Cry?” “Loudly. Mention gluten. Adults panic.” Bill frowned at the present pile. “And while they’re fussing over my imaginary allergy, you swipe the loot?” “Exactly.” “What if the children notice?” Molly grinned and produced a puppet from her coat pocket. “Then Mr. Waffles handles crowd control.” Bill stared. “You brought a puppet to a felony?” Molly wiggled its felt mouth. “No, Bill. I brought an accomplice.”