Run: 2026-03-09-01KKAC9G6JE8R3TDDW9PSVM8MN

Molly crouched behind the hedge in a raincoat patterned like disappointed camouflage, studying the rented bouncy castle as if it were a bank vault with better balloons. Bill lay beside her, smelling faintly of jam and burglary, assembling their equipment: a cake server, two pillowcases, and a walkie-talkie stolen from a lifeguard. "Bill, no smashing, only smiling," Molly whispered. "Molly, if cornered, I can juggle and cry on command," Bill whispered back. The garden beyond fizzed with shrieks, paper hats, and parents trapped in folding chairs. At the center, a trestle table groaned under presents wrapped in dinosaurs, glitter, and enough tape to secure a submarine. Molly adjusted her clipboard, because every serious criminal looked more official with stationery. Bill practiced his harmless face, accidentally discovering a look usually associated with confused alpacas. Their plan was disgracefully simple: enter as entertainers, distract the sugar-addled mob with a magic trick involving a handkerchief and plausible shouting, then evacuate the gifts through the side gate where Bill had parked the van marked WINDOW CLEANING and, less helpfully, ICE CREAM. A clown inside twisted balloons. Molly sighed. Professional rivalry was everywhere. Somewhere, a piñata swung in the breeze like a witness with secrets.