Run: 2026-03-15-01KKS2WZQ44DYJQYEMED3G7RX9

Molly smoothed the blueprint across the kitchen table, tapping a lacquered fingernail against the backyard layout. "Tell me again why we're doing this." Bill leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Because those presents are sitting in a garage right now, completely unguarded, and little Timmy Patterson is turning seven tomorrow. You know what that means." "Lots of crying when we take his stuff?" "No, it means his father bought him a gaming console. A real one. Not the knockoff kind." Molly studied the diagram. There were stick figures scattered across the lawn and a large circle labeled BOUNCY CASTLE. "What's our cover?" "We're the clown and the balloon animal guy." Molly looked up slowly. "You want me to wear a clown suit." "I already got it. It's in the bag." Bill kicked a garbage bag under the table. "Plus the nose, the shoes, the whole thing. Very convincing." "I'm not wearing a clown suit, Bill." "It's purple. You like purple." "I like purple dresses and purple handbags. Not purple clown suits that smell like another man's despair." She pointed at the blueprint. "What's this path here?" "That's where the parents will be. They're setting up a margarita station near the patio. Very distracted. Very frozen." "And the presents?" "Garage. Side door. Combination lock, but I already got the code from the nanny's Instagram. She posted a picture of the lock with the numbers visible. People are incredibly stupid." Molly traced the route from the bouncy castle to the garage. "So I waddle over there in a clown suit, crack the lock, grab the console, and waddle back." "You don't waddle. You skip. Clowns skip." "Bill, I swear to God." "Look, it's ten minutes of humiliation for a four-hundred-dollar console. That's forty dollars per minute of clowning. You're practically a corporate executive at that rate." Molly chewed her lip. She hated that the math worked. "What about the balloon guy? That's you, right?" "Obviously. I'm already certified." "Certified?" "I watched three YouTube tutorials on the drive over. I can make a dog, a sword, and something that might be a giraffe if you squint." "Children are going to cry." "Children cry at everything, Molly. That's their whole thing. Crying, sticky hands, and asking questions with obvious answers." He stood up and unzipped the garbage bag, pulling out a massive purple monstrosity complete with an orange wig. "Try it on." "If I put that on, I'm going to need therapy." "I'll pay for the therapy. With the console money." Molly grabbed the wig and held it at arm's length like it might bite her. "One condition." "Name it." "We hit a different party first. One without a console. Just to practice." Bill grinned. "Now you're thinking like a criminal."