Run: 2026-03-11-01KKFD1NE2021WWFHRNQZ5BV0Z

They huddle behind a thorny rose bush at the edge of a sun-dappled suburban driveway, a unicorn piñata and rainbow streamers glowing 50 yards away from the 7th birthday party they’re casing. “Quit squishing my Spider-Man face paint, Bill! I spent 45 minutes smudging it just right so the mom thinks I’m a chaotic 7-year-old, not a 38-year-old who once stole an entire jar of school fundraising cookie dough.” “Your face paint’s fine, I’m squirming ‘cause this rose bush just stabbed through my work boot! What’s the play? We can’t just waltz in and stuff a pillowcase with LOL dolls. There’s a real clown twisting balloon poodles out there. I hate balloon poodles.” “Relax, the clown’s my cousin, he owes me for bailing him out of that pickle jar incident last summer. He’ll herd all the kids into a limbo line in 10 minutes, that’s our window. And if you sneak fruit snacks into your duffel again I’ll leave you here to explain the power drill in your ‘trick-or-treat bag’ to a room of 8-year-olds.” “Fruit snacks are high-value! That drill’s for the locked present chest, anyway! Wait, you said that chest was push-button! I didn’t bring a combo-cracking tool!” “Calm down, I paid a first-grader at the party with temporary tattoos to crack it. We’re in and out before cake, no one’s the wiser.”