Run: 2026-03-18-01KM0A28QZDYYKMYR1E16T633N

Molly peered through the rain-streaked van window and whispered, “There it is, Bill. A children’s party, full of balloons, cake, and unattended joy.” Bill adjusted his crooked tie. “You say that like joy isn’t difficult to carry.” “It’s light,” Molly said. “The presents, on the other hand, are suspiciously boxy.” Bill nodded. “I hate boxy. Boxy implies responsibility.” “Try not to become philosophical,” Molly said. “We go in, blend in, smile at the adults, and leave with every wrapped gift before anyone notices.” Bill frowned. “What if they ask who we are?” “Bill, we’re caterers.” “We’re wearing ski masks.” “Experimental caterers.” He glanced at the house. “That bouncy castle is going to judge me.” “Let it judge from a distance,” Molly said. “Remember: no panic, no running, and absolutely no opening anything labeled ‘fragile.’” Bill lifted a duffel bag. “And if the children cry?” Molly grinned. “Then we’ll know we’ve been thorough.” “That’s monstrous.” “That’s organized.” She opened the door. “Ready?” Bill sighed. “No. But my childhood was never this festive, so let’s commit a little crime.” “Good,” said Molly. “Try to look like you belong.”