Run: 2026-03-18-01KM0ADQXYG6R2A20FP62PJ22B

The rain drummed against the roof of the stolen ice cream truck Molly and Bill had claimed as their temporary HQ. "I still think this is a stupid idea," Bill muttered, picking at the frostbite blisters on his fingers. Molly ignored him, unfolding a glittery birthday invitation printed at Kinko's. "Harold's turning four. Three-year-old nephew got a gigantic Elmo playset we could hawk for, like, three Benjamins." Bill groaned. "Ew. That plush red menace gives me the heebie-jeebies." "Sentimental value, Bill. Grandma paid retail. Also, rumor is Harold’s dad hides his keys in the *second* cookie jar labeled 'Emergency Snacks.'" Bill squinted at the yacht-blue diagram Molly drew of the McMansion across the street. "We tripping alarms, cameras, dads with .45s from their concealed-carry parent permit classes." Molly tossed him a fountain pen and a children's picture book titled "My First Crime Scene." "Dude, kids party’s gonna be chaos—cupcake avalanches, piñata punches, parents snapping pics of snotty Jonah. We blend right in. Dress like clowns." Bill shuddered. "Clowns. I'd rather face the dad with the .45."